


Black Bayard

by foxysquid



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Androids, Black Bayard, Flashbacks, Identity Issues, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Robot/Human Relationships, Shiro Week 2017, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Team Bonding, Team Dynamics, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-02-06 07:02:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12812202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxysquid/pseuds/foxysquid
Summary: The Castle of Lions is on Arus, and there's a Galra warship heading toward the planet. The Voltron Team has only four paladins and four lions, which is why Shiro's glad to hear that there are actuallyfivebayards on the ship. But the Black Bayard is not what Shiro was expecting—and presents him with new challenges.Written for Shiro Week 2017, for the promptBlack Bayard, obviously.





	1. Kinds of Quietness

The deep green forest had been strangely still. The air there had been warm and heavy with moisture as he would have expected of a jungle climate, but with a coolness, too—in the shadows beneath the branches and between the leaves. In the way calm had washed over him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so at peace. He and Pidge may have been on a mission, but he was able to sit and let the quietness sink in. In spite of the strict time limit and the specific goal that guided their steps, their journey had felt more like a family outing than a military one, as if the green lion were a friend they were going to visit, who happened to live in the center of a coiled hill of vines in the wilderness. Not even Pidge's chattering had disturbed him, because it was familiar, human. He liked that.

True, the slothlike person manning their boat had been far less familiar, but friendly enough. It was always pleasant to encounter more species who weren't set upon killing or imprisoning everyone they came across. His own experience in captivity mostly eluded him, as if it had been stolen away. Memories floated at the edge of his conscious mind, but they formed a dark blur, too dense for him to isolate individual incidents within it. In the jungle, he'd been able to ignore that blur. It was too tempting, but also too frustrating, to try to separate the layers of memory. For an hour or two with Pidge, he'd allowed himself to focus on the clear water rippling around the boat and the fresh air filling his lungs. To enjoy being free in a world that was alien, but not hostile. Imagine that.

Shiro tried to preserve that feeling, but the sense of freshness and freedom started to fade almost as soon as he returned to the castle. When he and Pidge reunited with the others, he found himself facing the very real fatigue and fear on Lance and Hunk's faces. They had managed to retrieve the yellow lion, but they'd almost died in so doing, and they were obviously aware of that fact. They both rallied quickly and were already joking about their trials within the span of a few minutes, but the strain Shiro had glimpsed reminded him how inexperienced his team was. They hadn't finished training, let alone seen active duty. Not that he would ever fault them for that, but it was a matter for concern. A concern he'd be sure to keep private, as mentioning it would risk discouraging them. He needed to be supportive, not point out their weaknesses. They had no choice but to work with what they had. What reassured him most was the knowledge that they had done amazing things already. They would do more. They had great potential. What they didn't have was time to break for more training. 

Shiro couldn't say exactly how much time they _did_ have. The Alteans weren't entirely clear on that point, either.

"Welcome back, paladins," said Coran, once they'd all reassembled on the bridge following their successful forays. Coran paused for a deep breath, then puffed up his chest and tucked his arms behind his back before announcing, "I have some good news!" Shiro glanced at Allura, who was poised at Coran's side. She didn't contradict the older Altean, but her expression indicated that her feelings regarding the news at hand were less positive than Coran's. Shiro wouldn't have said she looked grim, but he detected an element of doubt.

"Good news is one thing we could use more of," admitted Shiro. The others were quick to agree with this sentiment, with murmurs and nods. They had four of the five lions now, but only three of them were operational, and in light of the size and strength of the Galra empire, they remained at a distinct disadvantage.

After waiting a short time to let them speak amongst themselves, Coran at last interrupted his own dramatic pause to share his news. "I'm overjoyed to inform you that we found the red lion!" 

"That is—definitely good." Shiro said, but he was already waiting for what he sensed was coming next: whatever had inspired the faint frown now inhabiting Allura's face, lightly drawing that line between her brows.

"Although... there is some less good news to balance it out," Coran admitted, tilting his head to one side and pursing his lips. 

Shiro may have suspected as much, but as the initial news had been so good, he wasn't losing hope. "We're listening."

Coran may have been enjoying his announcing a little too much. He gestured broadly with his hands, then clenched them into fists. "The red lion is on board the Galra ship! Which is currently hurtling towards us."

_Galra ship._ Shiro was careful to keep his expression neutral, but the emotion that moved through him was one he hadn't known before last year. He didn't know what to name it, but it chilled his skin. He tried to ignore it. 

"Seriously?" Lance sighed aggressively. "They've already got it?"

Hunk sighed along with Lance. "Not to nitpick here Coran, but that's not so much 'less good' news as 'bad' news." His hands formed finger quotes around the words "good" and "bad". If Shiro were being honest and fully disclosing that honesty, he would have agreed with Hunk. But no, he was going to remain positive and confident, for the good of the team. He was determined on that point. He'd kept it up this long, and he would keep doing it.

"We're going to have to engage them eventually," said Pidge. "No matter what." Pidge was also right. They couldn't avoid the Galra.

Shiro kept his voice steady. "So, this Galra ship. You say it's hurtling?" He needed more precise information than that. "What does that mean, timeframe-wise?"

"No... Now that you mention it, it's not hurtling, exactly. More like speeding. Or zooming." Coran stroked his mustache thoughtfully. "None of those are _technical_ terms, mind you."

While Coran was pondering his word choice, Allura intervened, more helpfully. "We don't have much time to decide what to do. We may only have a single rotation period of this planet before they arrive. Two, at most."

"We can't get a more accurate estimate than that?" Shiro asked.

Coran had struggled through his dilemma and decided on his wording. "As I said, 'zooming' isn't a technical term, and as such, is difficult to measure accurately. It's best to say that we do not have much time! But we have a little time, which is much better than no time at all."

Shiro nodded. He wasn't satisfied with the imprecision, but he wasn't going to argue with that logic. He had no knowledge of the specifics of Altean sensors. Again, he needed to deal with the reality he was faced with rather than wish for what he didn't have. He became keenly aware of the fact that Hunk, Lance, and Pidge had turned toward him. They were waiting to see what he would say. He wasn't intending to let them down. "Then we need to use the time we do have. Let's get ready."

Allura inclined her head. "We should prepare ourselves as best we can. Regardless of what we decide to do, there are certain things I need to show you now."

It was an understatement to call the Altean technology _impressive_. It was nothing short of miraculous. Their civilization had accomplished feats that Earth scientists would likely consider magic, as much of what they had invented far surpassed what humans were currently capable of creating. The lions were only part of it. The castle was a wonder of its own. It had preserved its inhabitants alive for ten thousand years, and Shiro had only begun to become aware of the wide range of feats it was capable of. The paladins' armor, too, possessed a kind of magic, making them gasp when it appeared in a flash of blue light. It was both impossibly light and improbably strong. Without any need for alterations, each suit automatically fit its wearer as if it had been made for them, despite having been designed centuries before they were born.

Shiro had the sense that in this castle, there would always be another wonder waiting to reveal itself to him. The time he'd spent here so far couldn't have been more unlike what he'd experienced among the Galra. He saw things that made him smile. From time to time, he caught himself feeling _good_.

The team was scarcely suited up before Allura moved them on to the next marvel to uncover. She placed her hand on a long, glowing panel, and four objects materialized there, lying in a neat row. They were smooth, crescent-like devices that slightly resembled boomerangs, but with a central handle. The color accents on them were by now familiar: blue, green, red, and yellow. "The bayard is the traditional weapon of the Paladins of Voltron," said Allura. Shiro listened as she continued to describe the bayards, but no one could have failed to notice that there were only four of them. He watched the others pick up their new weapons, with hesitation followed by excitement and exclamations. He was fascinated to see the small objects shift into entirely different and entirely functional weapons, but he had gotten the idea that this wasn't something he was going to be a part of.

Lance staggered backward, shocked by a blow from Pidge's diminutive yet electrified bayard. Shiro considered intervening in the conflict, but decided that no, Lance had probably instigated it. He'd be fine. 

Shiro watched his team members experiment with their new weapons, but he couldn't feel as glad as they looked. More than one thing was missing. He was distracted enough by this certainty that he was only subconsciously aware of how close Allura had drawn to him until she spoke at his side."Shiro, the black bayard isn't here, as I'm sure you've noticed."

He was already prepared for this exchange. He didn't allow himself to express any disappointment, smiling instead. "I'll just have to make do."

She returned his smile, but shook her head gently. "No. That's not what I mean. It isn't _here_ , with the others, but it is _here_ , in the castle. I'd like to take you to it." She glanced at the other paladins, who were starting to notice that Shiro and Allura were talking instead of playing with bayards. "Just you."

This wasn't the first unexpected thing that had happened to Shiro since he'd arrived here, but he found himself hesitating. Not out of fear, but out of thoughtfulness and a little surprise. Was this what Lance, Pidge, and Hunk had felt upon being presented with their bayards? Shiro had been expecting to have something kept from him, to be prevented from being whole. Yet when he considered what she'd said, it did make sense, didn't it? The black lion was different than the others. Apart. It was the leader. In his own way, he was apart. He hadn't been the same person, since he'd returned to Earth. So the black bayard was also different. He could understand that. "All—right."

Shiro gathered his thoughts and centered himself. "Okay, guys. You heard that. The princess wants to show me something. I'll be right back."

"Have fun. No need to worry," said Coran. "I'll look after them while you're gone." To illustrate this, he reached out to pat Hunk's shoulder reassuringly. Hunk blinked at him.

"Hey, we don't need looking after," Lance protested.

" _We_ don't, but _he_ does," countered Pidge, elbowing Lance.

"Hey!" Lance protested again, raising his voice even higher. "I'm an independent guy."

Hunk nodded, slowly. "You know, Lance, I've gotta admit, Pidge is right on this one. You _are_ the one who needs looking after."

"Look after Lance, everyone," Shiro called over his shoulder as he started down the corridor with the princess. He couldn't help but smile as, behind him, Lance shouted, _Hey!_ a third time. Shiro focused on the easy camaraderie that had developed between the four of them as he tried to prevent himself from picturing in his mind the image of the red bayard, lying alone on that blue glowing panel, and the red paladin's armor hanging empty. Even if they were able to regain the red lion, who was going to fly it?

"I hope you don't mind leaving them behind for a little while," said Allura, as she walked by his side. A smile had replaced her earlier frown. "I can see how you care for each other."

"We do." Shiro hadn't known Lance and Hunk long, but without their help, he wouldn't have made it off the planet. Incredible circumstances had a way of forging incredible relationships, which accelerated much more quickly than they might have under ordinary circumstances. He still had a lot to learn about those two, but he was grateful to them. As for Pidge—Well, that situation was more complicated, but if he hadn't had the benefit of Pidge's determination and stubborn refusal to admit defeat, he would likely be detained in a government facility right now instead of here, being led by a princess toward an unknown fate. Difficulties aside, he preferred where he was now. 

Allura was silent for a few moments, as if respecting the privacy of his thoughts. Her footsteps were light, but the quiet of the corridor and the castle as a whole amplified the soft sound. This wasn't like the quiet of the green woods, which had felt welcoming and warm, a quiet that was full of things. This was a silence of absence. Shiro asked himself, how many people were meant to crew this ship? Not only two, surely, even if they were capable of doing. A ship of this size had been created with more people in mind. It was hard to know what to say, faced with that emptiness. He couldn't seem to go two steps without being confronted by something that wasn't where it was supposed to be—be it a paladin, a lion, or his own arm. Princess Allura's loss was greater than any of those.

"It's not that I wish to exclude the others," she said at last. He'd initially guessed that she'd been respecting the privacy of his thoughts, but maybe she'd been lost in her own. "But it's better to do things this way. One on one. Or one on two, if you include me. But I'm simply there to make the introductions."

"I see," said Shiro, but even though her statements were coherent, he had the idea that there was some significant aspect of them he was failing to appreciate.

"We haven't had a chance yet to check all the systems. But the black bayard has an individual charging station and should be operational. I don't see why it would be otherwise. It's a completely separate system, because the black bayard's functionality is even more extensive than the others', impressive though they are. The idea was for the black paladin's bayard to be—not only a weapon—but a more personal interface between the paladins and the lions."

"What kind of personal interface?" As Shiro's own lion wasn't yet available to him, he had a secondhand understanding of what a connection with one of them would feel like, but the idea was intriguing. As soon as he thought he was starting to understand the technology they were dealing with, some new facet of it was presented to him.

"It's not that the bond between lion and paladin isn't already profound—well, once it's fully developed, but it was thought that there could be another way to facilitate communication. The bayards are part of Voltron too, and—" She broke off. "We're about to arrive, so it'll be easier to show you than to explain." As she'd stated, after a few more steps, she came to a halt. 

Shiro found himself standing in front of a door that wasn't markedly different from the other doors on the ship. No sign or feature set it apart significantly. It could have led anywhere. When the princess reached out to touch it, it opened immediately. Shiro was expecting to see a weapon of some description inside, but that wasn't what he saw. An odd calm enveloped him again, but this was more of a blankness, created by the simple uncertainty of not knowing what to think.

The room was dimly lit, but not completely dark. There were irregular blue light panels on the ceiling which formed an almost-spiral. He didn't know if the formation had a purpose or if it was aesthetic in nature. A much more regular band of pale blue light ran around the wall, parallel to the floor and close to it. At one point and one point only, a straight line of light broke off from that luminous band and cut across the floor to the center of the room. It led to a curved platform that was both like and unlike a bed. It resembled rounded beds that Shiro knew existed on earth, yet there was nothing soft or yielding about it—no mattress or pillows or cushioning of any kind.

On this bed, there was a person. It wasn't a weapon or a robot. Visually, Shiro couldn't distinguish the figure from a living being, so that's what his brain told him it was, although no breath moved through the body, and the absolute motionlessness of it didn't suggest life. Shiro knew, because of what he'd been told, that this couldn't be a living person. There were only two Alteans on the ship, but this person appeared to be an Altean, too. A young man. He had the pointed ears of an Altean, and facial markings near the corners of his eyes. What set him apart from Allura and Coran was his coloration. His skin was very pale, and his hair was black, lying in soft waves around his neck. His facial markings didn't glow. They were black, like his hair, and their surface was matte. There was more shine to his hair than his markings.

"This is—"

"Yes, the black bayard." Allura finished his sentence for him. Shiro was grateful to her for doing so, because he wasn't sure if he would have managed to finish saying it himself.

"What's his name?" Shiro asked. It was the first question that came to him, and he didn't quite feel as if he'd spoken it. It was more like it had fallen out of his mouth unbidden.

Allura's eyebrows rose at the question, as if it wasn't the one she'd been expecting. "The previous black paladin never named his bayard," she said, her mouth moving oddly around those words, as if they were made of small stones. "So I'm afraid I don't have a name to offer you right now."

"That's fine. I— He's supposed to be my weapon? I can't... exactly. Like this." Shiro was very aware that he wasn't at his most coherent, but he was having difficulties processing the situation, and one of these was the difficulty of visualizing how to use a person-shaped weapon, short of having it simply fight for him.

"He's remarkably lifelike, isn't he? But he is a weapon, I assure you. He's quite receptive and adaptable," said Allura. "He can change form, as you saw with the other bayards."

Shiro thought back to the other bayards he'd seen in action. "So he could change into a—a gun?"

"Or any one of a number of weapons, yes. The possibilities are only limited by you."

"Me?"

"Not you in particular! I don't mean to say you're going to impose a limitation on him." Allura hastened to add. "I don't think I know you well enough to be able to say that. But it's the imagination and the will of his paladin that he'll rely on in order to fight."

Shiro nodded, but he knew he had a hundred more questions that he had not yet succeeded in formulating. "I'll be honest. This is not what I expected at all."

"You wouldn't have. He is very experimental technology. Or he was. When he was created. That was a long time ago now, and I don't know what other advances may have been made in our absence." After saying that, she didn't say anything else, gazing at the black bayard lying on its odd bed.

Shiro didn't speak again yet either, imagining Allura grappling with that long span of time and everything that had taken place since she'd fallen into her deep and changeless sleep.

While neither of them spoke, someone else did. A low, rough voice came from the dim room before them. "You don't have to talk about me like I'm not here." Shiro gave a start, aware of Allura doing the same beside him, in the same instant. They both stared ahead, still wordless. The bayard—or the person who was somehow a bayard—had opened his eyes. His eyes were as dark as his facial markings, but they were bright. No longer motionless and calm, his expression had shifted into what could only be called a scowl, and his gaze was fixed angrily on the open doorway. "I can _hear_ you, you know."


	2. Ten Thousand Years

Shiro felt a pang of guilt, like a child called out at school for talking out of turn. He and Allura hadn't said anything unkind, but they had been discussing the black bayard as if he were an object. As a weapon, he was an object in one sense of the word, made to be acted on. But he could speak. He could scowl. He could decide that he didn't want to talked about that way. Shiro had learned what it was like to be referred to as a _thing_ , discussed as if he had no agency or autonomy. In his dreams he still heard the harsh voices speaking over him, felt the cold floor beneath his hands and knees. He would never intentionally subject anyone else to an experience like that.

It was Allura who recovered from her surprise first and managed to reply, lowering her head politely. "My apologies. I didn't intend to be rude. I hadn't realized you'd been reactivated already, or I wouldn't have done anything of the kind. It's a pleasure to see you again." 

"Is it?" The bayard sat up. His movements, like his body, were lifelike. There was nothing stiff or mechanical about them as he swung his legs around smoothly to sit on the edge of the bed. He was dressed differently from the Alteans. His clothing was dark and all of one piece: a form-fitting suit of black and purple. Down the sides of his arms and legs were long bands of glowing purple. Shiro wasn't familiar enough with Altean technology to guess why those bands were a different color than the blue light he'd come to associate with energy on this ship. Only in the center of the bayard's chest was there light of that blue color visible, gathered in a V-shape. It roughly marked the spot where the heart would be, on a human body. Theoretically on an Altean as well, but no one had informed Shiro of the placement of Altean hearts.

The bayard made a faint, breathy noise, although as a construct, he would have had no reason to breathe. Had he huffed? Shiro was fairly certain that that had been a huff of irritation. He knew what those sounded like. The bayard glanced down at his own feet, as if to refamiliarize himself with them, then raised his head to frown at Allura and Shiro again.

Allura struck Shiro as someone who was good with people. Usually. She had a knack for sounding proper and polite, but the cheer in her voice had grown a little too cheery. If it was forced, it was fractionally so, but the strain was beginning to show. "It is a pleasure, yes. It's been a long time."

"Too long."

They were conversing like acquaintances, without any of the warmth of friendship. Knowing what he did about the princess' connection to the castle and the lions, he had expected affinity, but there was a clear distance between them. They might never have known each other well, or the passage of so much time could have caused a shift. Most civilizations didn't last that long, let alone relationships. Shiro had known the usual kinds of reunions with people he hadn't seen in a while, but such an excessive timescale warped the experience into another class of separation. The fact that they'd been in stasis must have lessened the rift, but what could you say in the face of centuries? He didn't have anything to offer. He was the outsider, so he stood back and listened, giving them the space to speak. They'd known each other long, long before he'd been born.

"But things have changed," said Allura. "We're together again. It's a new era, and a new beginning. I'd like to introduce you to Shiro, the black paladin."

"I'm pleased to meet you," Shiro said. He raised his hand. His human hand. "I'm looking forward to working with you." It was possibly not the most eloquent greeting he could have come up with. It was what he might have said to any new colleague, so he hoped it was appropriate in the situation. He wasn't up on his meeting-your-future-weapon etiquette. 

Shiro had also not been briefed on the weapon's abilities, but the bayard proved to be capable of extremely quick movement. He lunged forward without warning. Shiro was quick, too, but he didn't have so much as an instant to react before the young man was standing directly in front of him, his hand folding around Shiro's wrist—and not the wrist of his human hand. It closed on the Galra prosthetic. Reflexively, Shiro pulled back, but his arm was held tight, and he couldn't free it from that grip. It might as well have been caught in iron. His heart was beating hard. His muscles tensed, and he suppressed the fight response that was telling him to move his limbs, to strike out. This wasn't the time to fight. He wasn't in a battle. Someone was holding his wrist. Very, very firmly, yes, but that was all.

"What _is_ this?" the bayard demanded. Shiro had been scrutinized by humans and Galra and Alteans in his lifetime, but nothing compared to the experience of being evaluated by a living weapon. The bayard was tense, too. His teeth were gritted. Was he—angry?

"Let him go," said Allura. 

The bayard glanced in her direction. His response was a hesitation—followed shortly by acquiescence. He loosed his hold on Shiro, reluctantly, and took a step back. "It shouldn't be here."

"Please," said Allura. "Shiro was a prisoner of the Galra, and he deserves our respect."

"Don't worry about it," said Shiro quickly. He wasn't in the mood for an involved discussion of the origins of his arm. He hadn't enjoyed being grabbed, but he wasn't going to complain about it. It was sensible to treat the prosthetic as a security risk. Now that he was freed, his heartbeat started to slow, until it had almost returned to its regular speed. "I don't mind."

The bayard studied him—not for the first time, but more slowly and searchingly than moments ago. His eyes were amazingly detailed; they gleamed in the blue light. He had long, perfectly realistic eyelashes, and they were—Shiro returned to his senses and sternly told himself he shouldn't be thinking about the structure of artificial eyelashes when he was trying—and possibly failing—to make a good impression. Pidge, Hunk, and Lance hadn't had these problems to deal with. They had no idea how easy they'd had it. Their bayards hadn't huffed at them, grabbed them, or given them a _look_ like that. It was a piercing gaze, but Shiro held it.

The bayard turned away first, with another sharp and presumably unnecessary exhalation. He focused his attention on Allura. " _He's_ the black paladin? How do you know?"

Now _Shiro_ was the one being discussed as if he wasn't present. He didn't object. This wasn't going as well as it could have, but he hadn't been completely rejected. He'd been largely discounted instead, which was slightly preferable.

Allura rested a thoughtful finger against the side of her face. "It's difficult to explain, but I was able to sense it. When the new paladins arrived, I could tell at once which lions each of them were meant to pilot. I just knew. It was like knowing how to breathe."

"So I'm supposed to take your word for it? He hasn't even flown the black lion yet." The bayard closed his realistic eyes. "I know the lions better than you do. I can feel them."

So, there was someone with a close connection to the lions. She had said that the bayards were part of Voltron. Had this one been designed to provide a way of speaking to Voltron directly? "Can you feel the red lion, too?" she asked.

"Always." The bayard opened his eyes. "It'll be here soon."

"I know. We're going to get it back."

"You really think _you_ can do that?"

Allura gave a start at the doubt in his voice. Something was wrong. It showed in the princess' reactions to the bayard's actions. They weren't actions that Shiro himself would have expected from a—a robot, if that was the correct term for him. He was technically a robot, wasn't he? He didn't look like a machine, but that was what he was. Someone had created him, had designed him with a plan in mind. Allura had suggested as much. True, he didn't behave in accordance with Shiro's idea of a robot, but he also didn't appear to behaving in accordance with Allura's idea of him. Allura, who had known him before.

"I—are you feeling all right?" Allura asked. "I mean, are you malfunctioning in any way? If there's any little thing... I'd like to help, if I can."

"I'm fine," the bayard answered curtly. His stance was defensive. Why did he look like he was confronting an enemy?

"It's not that I don't believe you," Allura continued carefully. "As we said, it's been a long time. It might help if I were to run a diagnostic on your system. To see if it needs a tweak or two. We've been doing the same with the castle as a whole."

"I said I'm fine, and that means I'm fine." He folded his arms over his chest. "I can run my own diagnostic. I don't need yours."

"That's true... I wouldn't doubt your abilities."

"Good. Don't." He paused. "I wasn't, by the way."

"Wasn't what?" Allura asked. The non sequitur must have taken her by surprise. Shiro felt much the same.

The bayard sighed, looking from one of them to the other. Was that impatience? "Reactivated. You said I was reactivated, but I wasn't."

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," said Allura. "As I understand it, if you hadn't been reactivated, you couldn't be active now."

"That's _not_ what I mean, and you know it. No one turned me off!"

Shiro was starting to understand one cause of the problem. He guessed that it was dawning on the princess too, but she was still searching for an alternate answer. One which would make sense and make the situation better. "Maybe that was overlooked in all the chaos, but surely you were shut down automatically. The castle itself powered down."

"The castle? I'm not part of the castle," he said. "I operate independently of it. And I'm not powered by _you_ , either. Remember? I'm fueled by my paladin's will."

"Your paladin—" Allura stopped trying to create explanations. At the sound of those words, she gave up. She lowered her hands, her arms hanging at her sides. She stared at him. "How—?"

"I shouldn't have to give Alfor's daughter a tutorial."

The words weren't kind, but Allura's expression was more solemn than indignant. "No. No, you don't have to. I do know what you mean now. You've been continuously active."

"Yes." 

"For ten thousand years."

He didn't confirm this number, but he didn't reject it. He'd returned to regarding them suspiciously. That defensive posture hadn't left him. He'd unfolded his arms, but his hands were curled into fists. Allura displayed no signs of nervousness, and Shiro had no reason to believe he would attack, but he wondered what kind of damage a being like this could do. Shiro still had no concrete idea of his attack capabilities. They had only been alluded to. They must have been far beyond any human's. Shiro respected the majesty of Altean technology, but if by some chance the bayard were actually to malfunction and pose a threat to them, he would have to find a way to fight him. He wasn't sure if he could pull that off, but he would try.

The possibility of such a danger must not have occurred to Allura, or if it did, it didn't matter to her. Her head was lowered, and most of her cheer, forced or otherwise, had faded. "All that time. I had no idea," she said. "I'm sorry that happened to you. But believe me when I say that it wasn't anyone's intention. I know my father wouldn't have wanted that for you. He always said—"

"Your father couldn't do anything for me. He left me."

"No, he never meant for that to happen."

"What does it matter what he meant? He's dead."

That was uncalled for. He had no right. Shiro forgot his strategizing and was about to tell this robot exactly what he thought. He opened his mouth to do so, but he didn't have the chance. Allura raised her hand in his direction, shaking her head lightly. Shiro respected her wishes. He held his tongue.

"Yes, he is," Allura said. "But I mean it when I say that he would have tried to make it up to you. Since he can't, that duty falls to me. So I'll do what I can." Allura was being heroically polite, but all the politeness in the universe wouldn't have been able to hide her underlying sorrow. She carried on despite that. Shiro felt proud of her. "I only came here to make the introductions," she said. "So. If you'll excuse me, I should leave you two to it. I'm sure you'd both like to get better acquainted, and I have a great deal to do elsewhere on the ship."

"Thank you, Allura," said Shiro.

"You're very welcome, Shiro." She turned toward the bayard, who was now regarding her blankly. "And it _was_ good to see you again. We'll have to talk more soon." She left with the same grace she'd arrived with.

Shiro was left alone with "his" bayard. He looked at him. The bayard looked back. After a pause, which dragged out long enough to be classed as "awkward", he took a step toward Shiro. He was still eyeing him with an expression devoid of approval. After all that had transpired, they were now supposed to have a conversation. Become better acquainted. Buddy up. _Congratulations, Shiro, you've managed to land yourself in another one of your unlikely situations_.

"She left in a hurry."

Shiro nodded. As observations went, that was not a particularly insightful one, but it wasn't wrong. "I think you might have upset her."

"Why? I didn't say anything that wasn't true."

Shiro wasn't in a position to vouch for the veracity of everything that had been said, but, thinking back, he couldn't pick out any obvious untruths. "Maybe not, but it might have been the way you said it." Shiro was not a professional diplomat, but he was starting to think he'd fallen victim to a vast conspiracy that had been designed with the express purpose of forcing him to become one.

"What do you mean?"

Did he not have any conception of how he'd come across? That couldn't have been possible. He'd been consistently impolite. But the bayard was watching him with a sincere, if still intense, expression on his face. Staring up at him. Shiro was suddenly keenly aware of being taller than this robot weapon. If only subconsciously, he must have envisioned a powerful robot as a large machine—like a giant robot lion, for instance. He was larger than the other bayards, but still relatively small. Like the Alteans, he was similar to a human in a way that was both familiar and alien. Shiro discovered that his momentary irritation was rapidly transforming into sympathy. He had to break it to him. "You came off a little harsh."

"I'm not harsh. I'm honest."

"I'm sure you didn't mean any harm." Was he sure of that now? Somehow, he was. Was this some bayard bonding thing, or simple empathy? As the paladin without any real lion bonding experience, he couldn't say for sure. "But the princess has been through a lot."

"I know what she's been through. I was there."

"I guess you were." That was worth considering. He'd lived through the same tragic events. Shiro wasn't clear on what his precise experience of them had been, but he was aware that afterward, the bayard had been here, awake, for ten thousand years. What had he been doing for that length of time? The ship had been asleep. He wouldn't have had anyone to talk to. He presumably would have had very little, if anything, to do. It was a challenge to imagine such a long stretch of loneliness. Just vast emptiness. Lifetimes of it. No wonder he was upset. Could robots be upset? 

"You're not the black paladin," said the bayard suddenly, the words interrupting Shiro's meditation on the psychology of artificial life.

"I'm not?"

The bayard frowned. He opened his mouth, as if about to elaborate on what he'd said, then rapidly closed it again, pursing his lips. Was he struggling? Shiro felt the urge to reach out and place a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but he held back. He wasn't familiar enough with the bayard. That might not be what he needed now. The others had picked up their weapons right away, almost without a thought, without a question. Their weapons didn't have faces. Didn't appear to be in distress.

"He's calling out to me."

"What do you mean? Who is?"

"Never mind." The bayard shook his head. "You're not the black paladin yet. Like I said, you haven't flown the black lion. The other lions here have accepted their paladins already."

"That's right. You said you could sense all the lions. That's amazing."

The bayard shook his head. "It's just something I do."

"Right. Something amazing."

"I don't need you to flatter me. If you think that's going to make me accept you—it won't."

"I'm not trying to flatter you," Shiro said. "Like you, I'm being honest. Look, I can tell that you're upset."

"No, I'm not. I can't feel upset."

"You can't?"

"I don't have emotions."

That was an extremely odd thing to hear from a person—he was a person, even if he was also a robot—who had behaved so emotionally since the moment he'd met him. Shiro was not, however, going to argue with the bayard about his own nature. "My apologies, then. I was mistaken. I'm not that familiar with Altean technology. Your emotions seemed very convincing."   
The bayard's lips were curving frownward again. He appeared to frown most of the time, but Shiro supposed that could have been an intended design feature, if a questionable one. He'd like to see him smile, if only once, but that wasn't looking likely today. Shiro wasn't making much headway with him, but he still hadn't been entirely rejected. He had to keep trying. He wasn't sure if he was doing so because he wanted to gain a weapon, or because he wanted to cheer up the bayard a little. "All right. Let's do things this way: you tell me what you want, and I'll do it."

"You'll do anything I want?"

"That's right."

After a brief silence, the person who couldn't feel emotions had another emotional outburst. "I don't want to bond with you. I don't want to bond with _anyone_. I want you to leave me alone."

Now, here was the rejection. Now that it had happened, Shiro felt less disappointed than he'd anticipated. He knew the worst, and he had to deal with it. That—shouldn't have become a familiar sentiment, but it was now. "If that's what you want."

"Really? You're just going to go?"

"I said I'd do what you wanted. I keep my word. But how about this? A compromise. I leave you alone for a few hours, then I come back and we can talk some more. Until you want me to go away again." He was dealing with time. Shiro still didn't know how much of that they had, other than "not much". One day. Or two. How long was a day around here? There was still some confusion about inter-species time increments. Regardless, their increments were quickly running out. There were no more centuries to wait through. They sorely needed every resource they had, including the black bayard. This wasn't a matter of preserving their own lives, although that was part of it. They had so many lives to save that Shiro had difficulty fully conceptualizing the number, translating the Alteans' glowing star maps into millions of billions of people. Yet they were people. They were all out there. Waiting.

Though all those lives were in the balance, he'd meant what he said—not only to the bayard, but to Allura, when she'd first brought up the subject. If he didn't have a bayard to work with, he would make do.

"What if I don't want a compromise?"

Shiro didn't believe he truly wanted to be alone. Not after ten thousand years. "Then we won't have a compromise. That's all." He wasn't going to force someone to serve him. It didn't matter if that person been designed to serve him. It wasn't fair. They needed all the resources at their command, but help had to be freely given. 

The bayard hesitated. He sighed. "Fine. You can come back."

Shiro smiled, being the only person in the room likely to do so. "Then I will. I'll come back."


	3. Technical Difficulties

It was with a sense of what could only be called surreality that Shiro started to head back to the others. Not that anything that had happened to him lately would have been called "realistic" by the average Earth citizen. His mission to Kerberos had been incredible enough, if not fully in the realm of the fantastic. No, the unreal had come later. Who would have believed that such a carefully planned scientific mission would have ended as it had, with alien abductions and the start of an intergalactic war? That is, he hoped it was going to be the start of something, and that they weren't defeated before they had the chance to begin to fight.

No. He wouldn't think that way. They were going to fight, to put up a resistance. They had to. Shiro had military training, but he'd never been the kind of person to call for war. Peaceful resolutions were always best, but that wasn't possible here. He already knew the Galra. He knew what they were capable of. This was a matter of defense. If they didn't act, there would be consequences. More people would die, or be enslaved. Planets would be destroyed. Not that he'd brought it up with the others, but he was deeply troubled about what could happen to Earth. The Galra might have been temporarily lured away from Earth, but they knew where it was now.

Shiro was aware that the scope of the conflict was so much broader than Earth, and that so many people he had never known or dreamed of deserved and needed his help. Yet he couldn't help it if his throat started to close up when he thought of Earth itself being at risk. The whole universe was worth fighting for, but Earth was his home. It was familiar. It was where his family was from, and where most of the people he'd known throughout his life still lived. What if—

There were too many possibilities. There was absolutely no point in what ifs. He couldn't start thinking that way, either. He stopped and stood in the center of the hallway, taking a deep breath. Had his encounter with the black bayard shaken him more than he'd realized? He tried to identify the reason this doubt had come on him.

_You're not the black paladin._

Ah. There it was. Maybe he wasn't the black paladin. Maybe he wasn't what he seemed to be. He glanced down at his prosthetic arm. What properties did it have? He didn't even know what it was made of. It was an alien object that had been forced on him, fused to him. It gleamed dully in the light of the corridor. He'd tried and tried, but he still couldn't remember what had happened to his real arm. That memory would be painful, but he had to try to reclaim it. It was his. He flexed the artificial fingers of his false hand. That was his, too. It responded immediately and smoothly to his own thoughts, with movements as lifelike as the bayard's.

"Hey, Shiro?"

He glanced up quickly. He didn't know what expression he was currently wearing, but he did know that he didn't want anyone to see him wearing it. He forced his lips into a smile as he saw Hunk tentatively approaching him. "Oh. Hi."

Hunk raised a hand in a little wave. "What's up?"

"Not much. Just thinking."

"I know the feeling. Lots to think about. I've been doing a ton of that lately, myself."

"Is something wrong?" Shiro asked him.

"Huh? What do you mean, wrong?"

Shiro supposed it was not the most specific question. Recently, there had been at least a few things wrong at any given time. "I mean, did you need me for anything?"

"Oh! Oh, right. Because I'm here." Hunk laughed softly. "Nope, no, nothing like that. It was just, the princess came back, and then you were gone for a bit, and I thought to myself, 'I wonder how Shiro's making out? Fine, probably! Shiro is great at dealing with things. But he's probably hungry, too. It's been a while since we ate. I should go see if I he wants anything to eat.'" Hunk nodded. "Yeah, that's what I said to myself. So. Shiro. Are you hungry? Do you want anything? Not that we have anything but goo at this point."

It was obvious that Hunk was checking up on him because he'd been worried about him, but Shiro didn't mind. His false smile had already become a real one. "It's the thought that counts. Actually, you're not wrong. I could use a good meal at this point."

"You mean, a _goo_ -ed meal?" Hunk asked.

Shiro shook his head and allowed himself a half-chuckle. "Yeah, that's what I meant. I'm sure everyone could use something to eat. Unless the others have gone ahead already."

"No, we were waiting for you."

"You didn't have to do that."

"Hey, we've got some self control. We can keep our hands off the goo for an hour or two."

"Hm, I wonder."

"I swear." Hunk held up a hand again, this time in order to solemnly swear. "I have not touched a drop of goo since I saw you last."

"All right, you didn't have to swear. I'm satisfied."

Hunk nodded. "Good, good." Shiro wasn't entirely sure if that was another _goo_ pun in action, but he decided not to comment on it. He and Hunk fell into step together as they headed back toward the others and the food. Shiro had made note of the route Allura had taken him on, so it was easy to reverse course. The castle was big enough to get lost in, if you didn't pay attention.

"So," said Hunk, after allowing a minute or two of silence to pass. "Your bayard. Is it cool?"

"It is pretty cool." He felt odd referring to the bayard as an _it_ after having talked to him, but he was reluctant to explain the situation to Hunk right away. He was going to tell him, to tell all of them, but it could wait until after they'd eaten.

"Allura seemed a little... Uh, worried, maybe? There was definitely a frown involved."

"Things didn't go exactly as planned, but it'll be fine."

"Okay. That's okay. We can deal with things not going exactly to plan. We're used to that, right?"

"We should be, by now." Shiro chuckled again.

"I'm looking forward to seeing your bayard, though. Even with ours, the tech is like nothing I've seen before. Like, how are they able to change shape and size that way? It shouldn't be possible, but it is. It's like they're obeying a completely different set of physical laws. But how could that be?"

"I'm sure you and Pidge have a better shot of figuring that out than I do."

"True, true. We are great at that kind of thing."

"I know you are. That's why I keep you around." Shiro reached out to rest a hand briefly on Hunk's arm. "If all goes well, you'll be able to see the black bayard soon."

"Now you're being mysterious about it. Allura and Coran were, too."

"I don't mean to be. It's a little complicated, that's all." What was he going to do if he _wasn't_ the black paladin? It was bad enough that they didn't have a red paladin. What use would an incredibly powerful weapon like Voltron be if they had no chance of using it against the enemy? He hated the thought of letting his team down. Letting everyone down.

"I'm not going to pry, but I'm going to let you know that I _want_ to pry."

"I appreciate your honesty, Hunk."

When they rejoined Lance and Pidge, Lance let out a groan. "Finally! Shiro's back. I'm starving." He and Pidge were both sprawled on one of the castle's low and alarmingly comfortable couches. The wonder of Altean engineering extended to their furniture.

"I should tell you," said Hunk loudly, leaning in toward Shiro to pretend to whisper to him, "Lance is delirious with hunger. He was singing before."

Lance shook his head emphatically. "Uh—I was singing the the theme song to _Gun Ranger Ace_ , as I pointed out. The bayards reminded me of it, so it got stuck in my head."

"Lance," said Hunk slowly, "I told you, I never watched that weird show about giant guns that transform into different guns. I had no idea what that song was."

"That's not what it's about, Hunk! I explained the plot to you before. And I've sung the theme song to you before, too. It's not my fault you missed out on GRA as a kid. Your loss."

"That show existed purely to sell gun toys," said Pidge, with an eyeroll. "And the toy guns didn't even transform."

"Yeah, well... That's what imagination is for!" Lance protested. "And I've got a lot of imagination."

"That's one word for what you've got." Pidge sniffed.

"Settle down, guys," said Shiro, feeling much too old in this moment. Was he actually telling people to settle down? He'd never even heard of the show in question, which didn't help him feel any younger.

"It's an awesome show, Shiro, I swear," said Lance.

"I'm not doubting you. How about this: once we get back to Earth, you can show me an episode."

"Shiro," Pidge groaned, "why would you do that to yourself? It's the worst."

"Ah, paladins, there you are!" Coran peeked out from one of the corridors that converged on the lounge area where they'd gathered. "Time for a little sustenance break, I think?" He emerged fully from the corridor, his hands tucked behind his back. He rose up briefly onto his tiptoes before falling back down onto his heels. "We've had quite the full day, after all! You got two more lions, you put on your armor, tried out your bayards—that's a lot for one day!"

"Your forgot the part where I was shot at," said Lance.

"No, I didn't. I grouped that under 'getting lions'."

Lance shook his head gravely. "It deserves a separate mention. It was pretty extreme."

"...and, Lance was shot at!" Coran belatedly and cheerily added, before re-concluding: "That's a lot for one day."

Hunk frowned. "Lance, we both got shot at." 

"I'm not adding that in, too," said Coran. "I already finished twice. You can consider it grouped in."

"Fine, fine." Hunk heaved a sigh. "I'm not going to insist. It's not like I almost died, because _Lance_ dumped me out of his lion and left me to the mercy of the Galra."

"That's not how it happened, Hunk. I needed to get you started!"

"Guys," said Shiro, "I think that was Coran's way of inviting us to dinner." He noticed Pidge smiling at him, and he smiled back. Their own lion-gathering adventure had been much less upsetting and had involved approximately zero shots fired. It was a memory he'd treasure. Recalling it now, he grew calmer. Listening to the talk and laughter of the other paladins was recharging him, too, although in certain instances, they _did_ need to settle down. "The general consensus is that we're all ready to eat."

"Princess Allura will be joining us shortly," said Coran as he led the way to the dining hall. "She has a few technical details to work out around the ship."

Shiro was willing to bet that wasn't entirely true. After her conversation with the bayard, she probably needed time to herself to process. Not that there weren't actual problems on the ship for her to deal with. He was well aware that it wasn't operating at full capacity. That was another cause for concern. To have even one part of their defenses in ideal condition before the Galra ship arrived would be nice.

They were just sitting down to eat when the alarm went off. It was a low, pulsing sound that Shiro could feel vibrating in the soles of his feet. Coran, the only one who hadn't seated himself, jumped in place and looked around wildly. Yet there was nothing out of the ordinary to be seen, only the steady sound of the alarm.

"What is _that_?" Lance asked.

"Whatever it is, I don't like the sound of it," said Hunk. 

"Actually," said Coran in a tone of half-worry, half-pensiveness, "I forget what that one's for."

"You forgot what, exactly?" Shiro asked, trying not to sound frustrated as the noise droned on. Not sounding frustrated was a skill; he was getting very good at it.

"You see, there's a range of alarms for different things, and I assigned different sounds to all of them, but I haven't heard that one in a while." Coran paused. "I haven't heard any of them in a while, but I don't know if I've ever heard this one."

"It's not because of the Galra ship, is it?" Shiro asked.

"Oh no, no, that's definitely not it!" Coran reassured him, raising his voice to be heard over the alarm. "I don't think—no, definitely not!"

Allura rushed into the room, slightly out of breath. "Coran, this alarm—"

"Do you remember what it's for, Princess?" Coran asked hopefully.

"Do I remember?" Allura's eyebrows went up. "Coran, didn't you set the alarms?"

"This is bad for my digestion." Hunk gazed down at his uneaten goo mournfully.

"Okay, Coran," said Lance, "if you don't know what it is, and she doesn't know what it is, maybe no one knows what it is. Because _I_ don't know what it is."

Shiro didn't think that was a particularly helpful remark, but Coran's hand suddenly shot up into the air, pointer finger raised. "That's it! No one recognizes it!" Coran shouted. "Unrecognized user access!"

"You have an unrecognized user alarm?" Pidge asked.

Coran nodded. "There shouldn't be _any_ unrecognized users, especially as we're the only ones in the castle, so if there is one accessing the system, it needs an alarm. I should have known that was a computer system alarm. It has a very low tone. Higher tones are for external attack."

"Maybe it's just an error," said Pidge, getting up. "Ten thousand years is a long time for even the most advanced system. I could look at it for—"

Without warning, the alarm abruptly shut off.

Coran made a thoughtful noise. "That's odd. I wonder what that was about."

The noise Allura made in reply was similarly thoughtful. "I think we should look into it, Coran. Don't you?"

"We most assuredly should, Princess. But a few bites to eat first wouldn't be out of line. Would they?" Coran's smile was a hopeful one. "Just one or two."

As if to disagree with Coran, the alarm sounded again, causing them all to start. This time, it rang for only a few moments before shutting off again. That didn't fill Shiro with a great deal of confidence.

Allura must have shared his lack of confidence. "Let the paladins eat now. We can eat later."

"I'll come with you," said Pidge quickly. "I can eat later, too. I'm actually not that hungry. I've been looking forward to a chance to get to familiarize myself with your operating system."

"Maybe I should go, too." Shiro got to his feet as well. It wasn't as if the alarm had gone off only once. Now that it had sounded twice and then had curiously shut itself off a second time, it had occurred to him that the problem might be more serious than a glitch. After ten thousand years, the situation on Planet Arus might have changed more than Coran and Allura realized. There could be unknown threats present.

"No, no. Sit down, Number One. And you too, Number Four." It took Shiro a moment to realize that Coran was using his height-based numbering system. "It's important for you all to get the proper nutrients! You're still growing! Or some of you are. Possibly. I'm not entirely up on my Earth biology, but I'm fairly certain that that's the case."

"If everyone else is going to go, _I'm_ going to go." Lance must not have wanted to be left out, because he also got to his feet. "You'll probably need me. For something."

"Number Three, not you too!" Coran tugged at his mustache in distress. "It's nothing. It'll be fine. Sit down and enjoy your goo."

Allura had the look of a person who was wishing she had approximately four less paladins to deal with in this moment. "Coran is right about this. It isn't necessary that we all go."

"Um, guys," said Hunk. He was the only one who had remained seated throughout this discussion, which was headed rapidly into the territory of "disagreement".

The earnestly quizzical tone of Hunk's voice made Shiro take notice. "What is it, Hunk?" he asked. 

"I know this is an important conversation and all, about who's going to go and who's going to stay, but I have one quick question."

"Okay. Go ahead." Shiro waited.

Hunk pointed. "Who's that?"

Shiro looked in the direction Hunk was pointing. Everyone else must have looked too, because they fell silent as one. The black bayard was standing in the doorway at the far end of the dining hall, watching them.

"Oh," said Shiro. When he spoke, the bayard met his gaze immediately. The expression on his face was no less grim than it had been earlier, but he must have rethought his choice to be left alone.

"Ah," said Coran.

"Of course," said Allura. "That explains it."

"Okay," said Hunk. "Just a guess here, but I'm gonna say there's something you three aren't telling us three." He gestured to Lance and Pidge, including them in the "us three" group.

"Yeah!" said Lance. "That's a good guess, Hunk. Who is this guy? Do you know him, Allura?"

"There's another Altean on board?" Pidge asked, as puzzled as the other two. "But why didn't you tell us?"

"Numbers Two through Four, I can explain," Coran began.

The black bayard didn't allow him to finish, although he also didn't offer an explanation of his own. "I'm done with waiting," he said, striding into the room. He joined the rest of them by the table, but he didn't approach anyone in particular. Shiro could tell that he was making a point of keeping a certain amount of distance from everyone, including Shiro himself. Nonetheless, that didn't stop him from looking the group over critically.

"Allow me to introduce the black bayard," said Allura, taking up from where Coran had been interrupted. "He was created, like the other bayards. He's not an Altean, not exactly, but he's an important part of our team." If Shiro hadn't known better, judging by her polite and polished tone, he would never have guessed that she and that exact same bayard had very recently had a confrontation that had been far from polite on the bayard's part.

Pidge's eyes widened. "He's—"

Hunk finally rose from his seat, jumping up and finishing Pidge's sentence. "—a robot?"

In another moment, the bayard, who had been so precise about maintaining a careful distance from everyone, was standing sandwiched between Hunk and Pidge, with one of them at each arm. Shiro tensed, concerned that the bayard might have a negative reaction to the sudden closeness. He wasn't a social person, and he hadn't proved himself to be the most rational, stable robot. However, he didn't react in any noticeable way. He simply remained where he was, his arms stiff at his sides.

"What an adorable robot! He looks so alive!" said Hunk. "There are pores in his skin. Are you seeing this?"

"His sclerae even have little veins in them!" Pidge sighed.

Shiro relaxed. Whatever problems the bayard had, he seemed to take no issue with paladins gushing over him, accepting Pidge and Hunk's enthusiasm blankly as they continued to point out various design aspects to each other. "Y-yes," said Allura. She let out a breath, and Shiro sensed that she'd shared his concern about the bayard's possible reaction. "That's all true," she said. "Except that 'adorable' is a subjective trait, so I won't comment on that." She smiled at the bayard. "You were the cause of the alarm, I assume?"

"Yes. I interfaced with the castle's system to open the doors."

"I understand now. And it doesn't recognize you as a user because of your—separate system." She was nodding, and Coran was nodding, so Shiro was willing to go along with the idea that that explained the alarm being set off. They would know.

"It does now," said the bayard. "I rewrote the protocols, so it's fine."

"I see." She didn't greet this announcement with any pleasure, but Shiro couldn't say how pleased a person would become concerning rewritten protocols. "This is the first time you've interfaced in all this time?" Allura asked.

"Yes," he answered, without an additional word of explanation.

"Wait a second," said Lance, who had been following this exchange from the position he'd taken up at the princess' elbow. He'd moved closer to her while Hunk and Pidge had planted themselves at the bayard's side. His eyes were narrowed suspiciously. "This guy's _actually_ a robot?"

Allura blinked at him, as if she hadn't realized he'd been standing there. "It wouldn't be a mistake to call him that."

Lance was still digesting this fact when Shiro's attention was called back to the bayard and his two biggest admirers. "Hey, Mr. Bayard," said Hunk, still gazing lovingly at the object of his affections, along with Pidge. "Would it be okay if I touched your hair? It's cool if I can't. No big deal. It just looks so real."

The bayard hesitated before making a call on this. It may not have been the kind of question he was used to answering. "It's fine, Yellow Paladin."

"He knows my name!" cried Hunk, delighted.

"'Yellow Paladin' isn't your name," Pidge corrected him.

"It's close! It's kind of my name now. It's who I am. Now, do—him." Hunk jabbed a finger in Pidge's direction.

The bayard hesitated again, as if trying to process what the command ultimately meant. "Green Paladin," he said finally.

Pidge displayed exactly the amount of delight that Hunk had upon being referred to as Yellow Paladin. "He does know!"

"Oh, wait, me next," said Lance, hurrying over. He must have forgotten his suspicion in the excitement, if only temporarily. "Who am I?" he demanded.

"Blue Paladin," said the bayard, promptly.

"That's right," said Lance. "He did it!" 

Shiro had no knowledge of what the previous paladins had been like, but he was prepared to say that they most likely hadn't subjected the black bayard to anything resembling this kind of attention. Having received permission, Hunk reached up to gently stroke the curling ends of the bayard's hair. "It's so fluffy," he concluded. "What is it made of?"

"I can provide you with my schematics," the bayard offered.

"You _can?_ " Hunk and Pidge exclaimed in overjoyed unison.

"You're paladins, so yes." He turned, then, to regard Shiro. Shiro experienced another pang of anxiety, before he managed to suppress it. He understood the implication that he didn't count as one of the paladins. The bayard had accepted the others, as evidenced by how he'd named them. What he'd said to Shiro had been very different.

"Wait, why is Shiro the only one who gets two robots?" Lance asked. Which, considering the entire situation, wasn't the best thing he could have said. Not that Lance knew that.

"He doesn't _get_ me," the bayard snapped. "I don't belong to him."

"Don't listen to Lance," Pidge advised the bayard. "He has some problems with sentience." 

"Hey! I know what that means, you know. It was just a question," Lance protested. "It's not like I have any problem with my bayard. I was wondering, that's all. And—sure, maybe I would have wanted another robot, but who doesn't? I know these two do!" He shot accusing glances at Pidge and Hunk. "Look at them!"

This elaboration on Lance's part didn't placate the black bayard. "I _said_ , I don't belong to anyone."

It wasn't that Shiro didn't appreciate Lance's many fine contributions to the team, but this wasn't the time. "Lance—" He was about to intervene, but Allura spoke instead, and he deferred to her. She was the better person to intercede, considering the extent of her knowledge of this subject. Also, Lance snapped to attention once she started to speak.

"The creator of the bayards wanted the leader of Voltron to have a leading bayard, so to speak," she said. "So he designed him specially. Among other things, as a way to facilitate communication between all the paladins, the bayards, and the lions. So just as he says, he doesn't belong to anyone. He is your partner, and he is your representative as well."

"Okay," said Lance. "Cool." He must have accepted this explanation from her, because he didn't ask for further clarification before changing the subject. "I'd like to be _your_ partner and representative."

"And what, exactly, are you going to represent me in?" Allura asked. Lance opened his mouth again, but Allura quickly shook her head, thinking better of her question. "Never mind. Back to the matter at hand. That's basically the role of the black bayard."

The bayard himself was the one who was unwilling to accept the explanation of his role. "I didn't say that I agreed to any of that. Just because I'm here, that doesn't mean I'm going to help you." He was looking at Shiro again. The others must have been able to realize that the bayard was speaking directly to him. "I didn't see the point in waiting where I was any longer. That's all."

Shiro wasn't sure what this meant where their compromise was concerned. The bayard didn't want to remain alone, but he didn't want to help, either? Shiro hoped that he hadn't made that his final decision. In one way of looking at it, he'd ended the compromise in Shiro's favor. He'd come to him of his own volition, in far less time than their terms had dictated. That could be a good sign. Shiro could have decided to be optimistic about it—once he would have chosen optimism first—but he wasn't so sure. "We would appreciate your help. But we're not going to force you into it."

"Wait, we're not?" Lance asked. "We could kind of really use some help right now! There's a Galra ship on the way. And this guy is just going to sit and watch?" Shiro might have agreed with his sentiment, but not necessarily his phrasing.

"Black Bayard, I'm sure you know how dire our current situation is," said Allura.

"I know," he said. "You don't need to tell me."

Even Hunk and Pidge were losing their initial enthusiasm. Not that they went so far as to back away from the bayard, but Hunk's eyebrows were drawing together in worry, and Pidge's eyebrows were doing much the same. That thoughtful lip-pursing of Pidge's was very familiar to him. 

It was only Lance who was being outright combative. "If you know, then why won't you help us? What, are you on the Galra side?"

"Of course not!" the bayard shot back.

"He certainly isn't," said Allura emphatically, but Shiro was surprised to detect a slight waver of uncertainty in her voice. It was so slight that no one else reacted to it.

Except for the bayard. The alteration of his expression was so brief that it was as difficult to detect as Allura's doubt, but Shiro was watching them closely. Shiro saw him glance at her and then away. "I don't have to explain myself to you, Blue Paladin," said the bayard.

"Why not? Maybe you should. And the name is _Lance_ , by the way."

Shiro was starting to think he should tell people to settle down again. He knew that, as usual, that wasn't going to do much good, but he couldn't allow this to devolve into fighting. They couldn't afford to fight, because they didn't have time. Shiro couldn't prevent himself from asking a painful question: was it his fault that this was happening? What if the bayard's refusal wasn't due to any malfunction or malice, but because Shiro was no longer the person he was supposed to be?

Coran, uncharacteristically, hadn't spoken throughout any of these exchanges with and about the black bayard. He must have been listening quietly throughout all of it. Or so Shiro supposed. Shiro had been distracted enough that he hadn't paid any particular attention to Coran's silence. Everyone's various outbursts had drawn far more attention than Coran restraining himself, but Coran's time had come at last. "It seems we're having a bit of a diplomatic problem!" he piped up. "But no need to worry. I have a diplomatic solution. Sure to clear everything up in a few doboshes."

Shiro half-suspected Coran of timing this announcement to create the most suspense possible. If that had been his plan, it worked: now the attention of everyone in the room was on him, and the suspense was thicker than the goo sitting uneaten on their plates.

"What do you mean, Coran?" Allura asked.

Coran beamed in response. He was now most probably the happiest person in the room. "Why don't we ask King Alfor?"


	4. Lifelong Friendship

The first sound he was ever aware of was a voice. "It'll be amazing," that voice said, and those, then, were the first words he ever heard. "You're going to have so much fun." His auditory system had activated before his vision, so the words were not accompanied by an image. The syntax and diction were simple, and he processed the phrases instantly. Positive pronouncements on the subject of the future. _Amazing. Fun._ Subjective statements. His hearing was sensitive enough to realize that the person speaking—male, Altean—was facing away from him, so the words were most likely not directed at him. He had not yet completed the activation process that had been set into motion.

" _This_ is why you made me wait so much longer than the others for my bayard? I should have known you were up to something." The second voice was also male, Galra.

"Up to something? You could say that. I was preparing a very special surprise for my very dear friend. Don't you like him?"

He had registered that he was being discussed. _Bayard_. The dataset for bayard included a limited number of items. There were five bayards. He was one of two present. He was the only one that was newly activated. Therefore, the conversation concerned him.

"That's not the issue, Alfor."

"Then what is the issue, Zarkon?"

"For one thing, why did you make him Altean?"

"That's your sticking point? I have it on very good authority that you're exceptionally fond of working with Alteans."

"Alfor..."

"What? You _are_ married to one. And your best friend is also an Altean—or that's the rumor that's been going around."

He continued to listen to the conversation between the two voices, recording and analyzing. At the same time, he as his awareness grew, he scanned his surroundings. He measured the volume of the room. The atmospheric composition, compared against the atmospheres of known planets, indicated that he was on the planet Daibazaal.

"I beg to differ with that rumor."

"Very funny, Zarkon. I love your stuffy jokes. You're being stubborn, as usual. But don't be too worried. He isn't entirely Altean. I knew what you'd say, so think of him as a fusion of our technologies. I've programmed him with the history, culture, and social mores of both Altea and Daibazaal. Although he currently presents as Altean, there's a great deal of Galra in him as well."

"He doesn't _look_ Galran. He's very small, isn't he?"

"There are small Galra, as you very well know. But as I'm sure you remember, since you have such a good memory, the bayards can change both size and shape."

"He can do that, too?"

"Fundamentally, he shares many of the same characteristics of the other bayards. I simply added a few extra features for you. I'm thoughtful that way."

"More than a few extra. You've outdone yourself, Alfor."

"Thank you."

"It wasn't exactly a compliment."

"Thank you anyway. I do mean what I said before. He may be more Altean at the moment, but I designed him—I hope—with the ability to change and grow. So he'll be evolving and adopting your characteristics as well as my own. It's almost as if we've had a child together."

" _Alfor—!_ "

"What's the matter? Two men can easily have a child together."

"I know that! Certainly they can. But it's—it sounds bizarre when you say it like that. About us. It's the context."

"Nonsense. Why shouldn't two good friends have a child together? And there—just look at our son. Isn't he cute?"

"Why did he have to be cute? Why couldn't he be fierce?"

"So you admit he's cute."

"I didn't admit anything of the kind! Stop it."

"Oh, you stop pretending you don't like cute things. You're entirely smitten with Kova now, for one thing. You might even love him more than Honerva does. And you should know better than anyone that an individual can be cute and fierce simultaneously. There's no reason he can't be both. Even you have your cute moments. Now and then."

There was a period of silence. Then a sound from Alfor, louder than his speech and less disciplined. That was laughter. "Why are you doing this to me?" asked Zarkon.

"Favoritism."

"More like torture."

"We torture our favorites, don't we?"

"That's just you, Alfor."

Alfor was his creator, and Zarkon was his paladin. These facts were part of his awareness. He had been made knowing them. Possibly, it was the first knowledge he had been programmed with. He knew them. He could trust them. He opened his eyes. The activation process was complete.

"Ah, there he is." Alfor must have known how long the process would take, because the Altean had moved away from Zarkon and was standing over him instead, smiling down at him as he looked up for the first time. "Happy birthday."

"It's not his birthday," said Zarkon. He was seated at a table. He was sitting up straight. His posture was ideal for someone of his height and body mass. He didn't rise to make any move toward the bayard Alfor had made for him, but he was watching.

The bayard took in the visuals of Alfor and Zarkon, which matched his existing data. He processed their statements. He agreed with Zarkon. "It's not my birthday."

"You and your paladin already have so much in common." Alfor started to laugh again. "You used your first words to disagree with your creator. You're so advanced."

"You're flattering yourself, Alfor," said Zarkon.

"If I don't do it, no one will. I'm now well aware you two aren't going to."

"You've already done it enough for both of us."

He could process the statements of the black and red paladin without difficulty, but he found little to add to them, instead insisting on his earlier point. "I haven't been born. I can't have a birthday."

"So literal." Alfor tilted his head and smiled.

"He is a robot, Alfor. What do you expect? He's also right."

"I was sure to program him with metaphors. They're in there somewhere." Alfor fussed over the bayard briefly, as if metaphors were going to display themselves visually on the surface of his skin. "Oh, they'll come up eventually. Happy activation day, then. Or—how about naming day?" He turned to Zarkon. "Are you going to name him?"

"Name him?" Zarkon asked, blinking slowly. "He's the black bayard. That's his name, isn't it?"

"Don't be ridiculous. That's not a name. It's a role. Like king. Or emperor. But I don't simply call you Emperor."

"You could. If you wanted."

"But I'm not going to, because we're friends."

"Yes. That."

"Go on, give him a name. Something fierce and Galran."

"He doesn't _need_ a name, Alfor."

"Why not? Every person needs a name."

"He isn't a person."

"Now, that's not true. He's a person. Not an organic life form, no, but there's no need to limit the definition of 'person' that way."

"I'm not a person," said the bayard.

"See?" said Zarkon. "He agrees with me. Again."

"I wonder... That's interesting. I did leave some things to chance in his development... But I do think you should give him a name, person or no."

"I don't see the point, Alfor. That's all. I don't mean to disparage your invention. It's extremely impressive, as always, but Black Bayard is enough of a name. He's the only one there is, isn't he?"

"Yes, but he's supposed to make Voltron more personable. More relatable."

"To whom?"

"You, for a start," Alfor said.

"Is that necessary?"

Alfor shrugged. "I think so. Well, you'll have plenty of time to change your mind and name him. He's going to be staying with you. And I'll look forward to when I can celebrate his naming day."

Zarkon made no futher comment on naming day. "It's going to be a little odd having him live with me and Honerva."

"Don't be silly. Honerva will love him. She adores robots. I know that for a fact."

"I didn't mean that she doesn't like robots, but—where am I supposed to keep him?"

"Wherever you like. He is a bayard. He's very adaptable." Alfor had been inching back toward Zarkon when he spoke, but he turned and gestured to the bayard. "Stand up. Let's get a better look at you."

He stood. Zarkon stood, too, and he was conscious of his paladin's clinical examination. He experienced no reaction to it, staring ahead, standing motionless. If his paladin wanted to look at him, then he could look at him. "I can't exactly store him like the others store theirs, if this is his base form."

"You could. I think Blaytz puts his on a pillow next to him while he sleeps."

"I'm not putting him on my pillow!"

"Zarkon, you're much too easy to tease. Toughen up." Alfor reached out to flick his fingertips lightly against Zarkon's ear. 

Zarkon allowed the touch by declining to pull away from it. "You're one of the few people who teases me."

"I do it for your own good."

"That's your story. I'm reserving my judgment." Zarkon reached out a hand toward his bayard. "Come here."

He obeyed, without hesitation or thought. When he reached Zarkon, Zarkon's hand settled on his arm. He reached out to Zarkon, not with his own hand, but with his consciousness. He knew how to do that, quickly and easily, blending their minds. Sensing what Zarkon wanted, he shifted into a shape he knew well: the base form of the other bayards, curved and compact in Zarkon's hand. He understood his paladin's desire, and the design he curled into differed in a few respects from that of the other bayards. He became dark metal and pale, purple light.

"Now, that's not fair, Zarkon," Alfor said. "After all my effort."

He could still hear them speaking, and now that he was fully activated, he retained his visuals of them too, even without physical eyes. Resting in this state didn't cause him any discomfort, physical or mental. "You're not the only one who knows how to tease, Alfor."

"Put him back."

"Why should I do that?"

"For me."

"All right. I'll keep him this way. For you." The black bayard shifted back into his base form, because his paladin willed it. He was aware of his paladin's mind, as he was aware of the physical room he was standing within. He knew the placement, size and shape of the furnishings. He knew his place within the space. His paladin was laughing, and for the first time, he experienced pleasure, without the need to feel it for himself, because his paladin was happy. That same moment was also his first experience of displeasure, because he understood that something had gone wrong.


	5. The One Who Made You

If the Altean advisor had been hoping to cause a reaction with his announcement about King Alfor, he couldn't have been disappointed. His words put an end to all conversation—at first. Once a few seconds had passed, and the meaning of what he'd said began to register, the talk recommenced, but the subject had changed. Now everyone was talking at once, about the same new topic Coran had introduced. The paladins' voices were a jumble of sound, but he was able to isolate them, not that what they said was useful.

"I thought there weren't any other Alteans—"

"Is that that king guy?"

"Wait, what is he talking about?"

"What do you mean?" Allura asked Coran. "My father is—"

No, not everyone was talking. The black bayard himself remained silent, processing the responses. He recorded no verbal reaction from Shiro, who was also listening without saying a word.

"Ah, well. Now, now!" The advisor waved his hands, and he managed to create enough of a gap in the confused chatter to explain himself. "I'd been waiting for an opportune moment to tell you, Princess, but it looks like the moment has come! We could benefit from Alfor's guidance now."

"Coran," said the Princess gravely, "you need to tell me how this is possible."

He nodded. He was too eager to comply, as he had always been, but his expression shifted from a smile into something more sober. "At the end, your father realized he might not—be able to stay with you. In the little time that was left to him, he made a copy of his consciousness and his memories. He's stored them in a computer here on the ship, so you can talk to hi—"

Since the moment that that man had so lightly asked, _Why don't we ask King Alfor?_ the bayard had remained still, devoting all his processing power to ascertaining the meaning behind his words about Alfor. Now, he had heard enough. He understood. Of course Alfor was capable of doing such a thing, and of course he had done it. The bayard was tired of waiting. So tired. He moved. " _Advisor_!" The bayard had a grip on Coran's wrist before Coran could begin to think about pulling away. Pulling away would have been a futile act. Alteans couldn't match his strength or speed. No one here was a match for him, with the exception of the lions.

"Ah—! Yes!" The bayard was rewarded for his grip by a widening of eyes and a flutter of mustache. "That's me. Advising is my game."

"Take me to him," the bayard demanded. He knew that, by Altean custom, the princess had a much greater reason to visit this copy of Alfor. She should have been the one to see him first, but he had already committed to this course of action.

Coran didn't try to escape his grasp, instead reaching out with his free hand and patting the bayard's hand lightly. "That's the kind of enthusiasm for King Alfor I like to see!" Expectedly, he glanced toward the princess. As the royal advisor, it was natural that he should turn to her. Like it was natural for a bayard to turn toward its paladin.

"That's fine, Coran," Allura said, without hesitation. "Maybe it's for the best, this way. To quickly find our diplomatic solution, as you said. I'll speak with him afterward."

The paladins were watching him. The black bayard was conscious of it, as he was conscious of their bayards and their lions. They had been pleased to see him, but now they were probably less so. He wasn't interfaced with their thoughts, but he was aware enough of his surroundings and to register their reactions. He should have let the princess see her father. That would have been the correct course of action. His programming informed him of this.

"Very well," said Coran. "If you'll follow me. Princess—"

"Go on ahead. I'd like to have a moment to think about this. Before I see him."

The bayard didn't need any more moments. He was ready. When Coran turned and headed toward one of the doors, he let go of his wrist. Coran gave his freed hand a brief shake, and the bayard suddenly wondered if he had gripped him too tightly and caused him discomfort. If so, he shouldn't have done that. He glanced back toward the paladins. Shiro was watching him. He still hadn't spoken—unlike the others, who were muttering among themselves, unaware of how keen his hearing was.

The bayard turned away. He shouldn't have argued with the paladins. He shouldn't have rejected the one the princess had presented to him. His reactions didn't arise from actual input. He was processing data that didn't exist. The instant the princess had identified Shiro as the paladin, the bayard should have accepted him, but he hadn't. There was no rational reason for him to resist the idea of bonding with this new paladin, but when he projected the outcome of such a scenario, his predictions were comprehensively unsatisfactory. It was as if he were already sure Shiro was an erroneous choice, but he had no evidence to support that certainty. As the new black paladin, Shiro could have commanded him to cooperate, but he didn't. If the paladin had made his compliance mandatory, would he have followed it? Uncertain. 

Was this erratic behavior a result of running continuously at such low power, with so little input, for so long? Alfor hadn't designed him for this. He'd been operating outside of his primary functions. He wasn't supposed to work independently. He could operate autonomously, unlike the other bayards, but isolation wasn't supposed to be his permanent state. He was designed to work with a partner.

When the person he had identified as the blue paladin had disagreed with him, the bayard had found that his reactions had been consistently oppositional, as if he were in a combat situation, without the actual combat. There was no cause for conflict, but he was used to identifying Blaytz as the blue paladin, and his processors were resisting the altered dataset "paladin". He could perceive them as physical beings, and he had already registered them as paladins through their connections with their lions, but paradoxically, he couldn't completely accept their existence.

It shouldn't have been possible for him to doubt them. These _were_ the new paladins. It wasn't rational to reject a reality that was proven by empirical fact.

It had been ten thousand years since he had seen them, but the bayard had logged all his interaction with the first, previous paladins, and he could access any of those logs without error or delay. Blaytz had taken advantage of his fighting skills to utilize him as a sparring partner. Trigel had frequently asked him for his assistance in mapping unknown systems. Gyrgan had told him long, detailed stories about his people's mythology. 

"Seems like it's been so long since someone spoke to me that way," said Coran, conversationally. The two of them had left the paladins and the princess behind. "Actually, going by the calendar, it has been a very, very long time."

"What way?" The bayard had not been in this part of the ship for a long time. He hadn't been able to access it. He hadn't left his port.

" _Advisor!_ " Coran said the word with a raised voice and an altered tone. He wasn't convincing, but the bayard was able to ascertain that that was intended to be an impression of him. "You sounded like, oh—" Mid-sentence, the amusement faded from his voice, and he broke into into a long, thoughtful _hmmm_ , as if pausing to choose his words. "So strict and formal."

The bayard wasn't fooled by the pause, and he knew what the advisor meant. He knew what he'd sounded like. Who he'd sounded like. "Just take me to Alfor, Advisor."

"You've changed a great deal," said Coran, but he didn't slow his pace.

"I haven't." He said that, but he was aware that his statement was incorrect. He shouldn't have knowingly misrepresented the truth. He didn't correct himself.

"I know King Alfor will be glad to see you."

"I—" He couldn't manage to respond to that. He had been so focused on the thought of speaking to Alfor that he hadn't considered Alfor's reaction. "That's irrelevant to me," he said quickly.

"Oh, I remember. Not a fan of feelings. The universe's most serious robot."

"Robots are supposed to be serious." As Coran had so often been in Alfor's company, the bayard knew him, but he had rarely been alone with him, like this. His focus had been the paladins, so he and the advisor hadn't had many private talks. Coran didn't appear to be displeased with him, even though his actions hadn't been in line with common courtesy—he'd grabbed him and made a demand. Was that what Coran had meant by saying that he'd changed?

"One of the most serious people I've _ever_ met," Coran went on, and the bayard didn't bother correcting him by pointing out that he wasn't, technically, a person. "Let's see, how can I put it, then? I know: Alfor will be scientifically interested to see you." Coran nodded as he made his amendment. "And here we are—! You can go on ahead. He'll know when you approach him."

A door opened before them, and the bayard passed through it. The room beyond was stark and largely empty: darkness banded with thin lines of light, a faintly glowing framework of blue. A broad walkway led through the emptiness of the chamber to the computer at its center. The machine was low and circular, concave at the top. As the bayard approached, the machine hummed. He could sense that it was aware of his presence and was responding to him. A bead of intense blue light burned at the center of its concavity. When he was almost upon the computer, the light rose and flared, filling the room.

He wasn't dazzled by the light, but he was taken aback by what he saw next. He wasn't expecting to be confronted by the sight of a Daibazaalan mountain pass. He was easily able to discern that the landscape was a projection, but he could also assess it as it was meant to be perceived by organic organisms. His light processors were more sophisticated than an Altean's or a Galran's.

The bayard recognized this terrain, and he suspected that it had been conjured for his benefit. The rocks were red, and rose in natural pillars that were smooth and regular enough to have been mistaken for artificial shapes. Millennia had shaped those rocks, but they had been destroyed. Daibazaal had been his home for many years, but he had travelled frequently from planet to planet in those days. After that, after the war, he had spent so much more time here in the Castle of Lions than he had ever been anywhere else. He had existed here for many Altean lifetimes. All that time, Alfor had been here too, in a sense. The bayard had had no idea that Alfor had made such an effort to preserve himself, but then, Alfor had stopped confiding in him.

From the blue light at the center of the computer, a figure rose. "You're not who I expected to see."

Except for the fact that he was bathed in blue light, Alfor looked exactly as he had the last time the bayard had seen him—shortly before his death. He had known Alfor as a younger man, too. As with the landscape, the bayard was able to both see and see through Alfor at the same time. It would have been natural for Alfor to expect that his daughter would be the first one to greet him. "But I'm the one who's here," he told the king.

"So you are. It's unexpected, but not unpleasant."

Coran had stayed behind in the corridor outside. There was no one else to consider now but Alfor. Alfor smiled—no, it wasn't King Alfor. That person was dead. This was a light projection paired with recorded memories and defined personality parameters. Despite knowing this, the bayard couldn't prevent himself from saying what he would have said to the real Alfor, if he had. "Is that all you have to say to me? You abandoned us. You left us behind!"

Alfor's smile faded. "I could hardly help that," he said. His tone wasn't defensive, or sorrowful. What feeling there was in it was too gentle to be clearly defined.

"I don't mean because you died." The bayard accepted that all life forms would die, while his existence would continue without being affected by age or decay. If Alfor hadn't been killed, he would have eventually died due to great age, if no other cause had intervened beforehand.

"Then tell me what you do mean."

"I mean me. And the lions." He might have been created to be more like an Altean or a Galran, but he was connected to the lions. He was speaking, not for Alteans or Galrans, but for the component parts of Voltron. "You sent us away. We could have fought. We should have. The princess wanted to fight, but you were the king. It was your choice. You should have taken a stand instead of running away."

Alfor didn't disagree with him, but asked, "And how would you have proposed that we do that without the use of the black lion?"

"You had _me_. I could have helped you."

"Yes. You were with us."

He didn't need that hesitation from Alfor to tell him what he'd already known. "You didn't trust me," he said, and throwing out those words made his body temperature rise slightly, as if his system was entering the first stage of overheating. Technically, he was supposed to be unable to overheat. "You thought I'd betray you."

At least Alfor didn't try to deceive him. "I did believe that was a possibility, yes."

"I wouldn't have done that." His suspicion had been confirmed after so long, but it wasn't what he would have preferred to hear. "But I _could_ have. I stayed with the princess and the castle. I was here for all that time, for thousands of years. Do you know how easy it would have been for me to betray you?" His body wasn't regulating his temperature, and it remained elevated, although there was no known technical reason for him to be overheating.

"I don't, but please don't hesitate to inform me."

"He's been searching for me. He never stopped. All I had to do to let him find me was go to full power. He would have sensed me. He would have come here, and I would have told him where all the lions were, because I could sense them. He would have had everything he wanted, and he'd have destroyed everything of yours. I could have done it whenever I wanted."

"But you didn't do that," Alfor said.

"No! I didn't! Because you could have trusted me! I was always loyal to you. I trusted you."

Alfor watched him. The blue light of his hologram flickered faintly. "You're so angry," Alfor said at last.

"I'm not. I'm stating a rational objection to your course of action."

"No, you're very angry with me. Don't you realize that?"

The bayard didn't care for this line of conversation. He'd been trying to tell Alfor how—not how he felt, but how Alfor had miscalculated. "It's not anger—it's a strategic observation. You gave him ten thousand years to expand his empire. He'll be much that harder to defeat now. How are we supposed to fight him with only three functional lions and an untried group of four paladins?"

Alfor didn't answer his question. "I'd always hoped you'd develop emotions. I left that possibility in your programming. I'm only sorry that this is what it took to make that happen."

"These aren't emotions! You're being ridiculous! I'm making an important point."

"I know. It's not that I'm not taking you seriously. I am, and there are many matters to consider now. But—" Alfor reached out his arms "Come here."

"What?"

"I said, _come here_. Come closer to me."

The bayard resisted the command. "You're not Alfor. You're a copy he made."

"True. But then why are you angry with me? That isn't logical, if I'm not Alfor. So come here."

Alfor's reasoning wasn't logical either, but the bayard did draw nearer to him. From the computer pedestal where he was bound, he bent down and wrapped his arms around the bayard. He didn't make physical contact, since his arms were made of light, but the bayard was surrounded by his soft glow.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm giving you a hug."

How was he supposed to respond to that?" I don't—need a hug," he said, standing stiff and motionless.

"Then humor a computer program."

"What does that even—"

Without explaining himself further, Alfor released the bayard from his incorporeal embrace. He straightened. There had been a trace of his old, lighthearted nature in his words before, but it had disappeared again. He was the king, addressing his people. "I'm sorry," he said. "You're right. Allura was right. I should have kept the lions together, and we should have done our best to fight him, back then. When we were stronger. I should have had faith in you, and I should have let myself rely upon you, as well as upon the others. Unfortunately, I didn't do any of those things, and I've left my daughter—and Coran, and you—with this burden. I can't offer any excuse for myself. I can't make up for my failure to act. I can only apologize. And I do. I apologize to you."

"Right." The apology was complete and unequivocal, and Alfor hadn't tried to justify his actions. It was what the bayard had wanted. It didn't fix the problem, and there had been no practical reason for him to want a personal apology, but he had wanted it. Now that he had it, he wasn't sure what to say in response.

Alfor's expression softened. "But look at you. You've changed so much. You've grown up."

"I don't grow," the bayard objected.

"You'd think I would know better, since I'm the one who made you."

" _You_ didn't."

Alfor sighed. "All right, then you'd think I'd know better, as I'm the one who was made by the one who made you, who knows everything he did about making you. But—isn't that a little more awkward to say? I can't go through all that every time."

"It's more precise."

"I knew you'd say that. But it's more awkward, so I'd rather not."

The bayard exhaled, then pursed his lips. He didn't need to breathe, but he could emulate breathing. Alfor had designed him to appear as lifelike as possible.

"That's quite the expression you've managed," said Alfor. "I don't think I've ever seen it on your face before. I suppose you never did receive a name, did you?"

"I don't need one."

"It does make things more convenient for others, you realize. And that's only one benefit. I'm tempted to give you one now, but—"

"I _don't_ need one," the bayard insisted.

Alfor opened his mouth to go on speaking. Possibly, to give him a name. The bayard was conscious of his intake of breath. Alfor had designed his hologram to be as lifelike as possible, too, but he had no need for breathing, either. So there they were, both making the noises of people who could breathe, when they couldn't. Both of them made by Alfor, who would have thought something like the sound of breathing was very important.

As he thought of those little details that Alfor had valued as if they were vast, the bayard experienced a strange sensation, as if a great swath of his code had been deleted, although there was no actual corresponding loss of data. He glanced down and saw the rough rocks of Daibazaal beneath his feet. Through a crack in the stone, a wildflower was growing, one of those pale purple ones that you found everywhere in the mountains in the springtime. They were so delicate, they looked as if they'd disintegrate beneath a touch, yet they forced their way through rocks year after year, or they had until their planet had been destroyed.

"I'll hold off, then," Alfor decided. "We'll see what happens. There are new paladins now, I understand."

The bayard wasn't sure if Alfor was in conversation with the ship's primary computer system, or if Coran had been keeping him informed of the conversation, but both possibilities were likely. "Four of them. There's no red paladin." It would have been simpler if five humans had arrived at the castle instead of four. They hadn't been that fortunate.

"I'm sure we'll find a partner for Red. He's a little particular, that's all. Some would say _picky_ , but selective is a better word."

"We don't have the red lion, either." 

"Yes. I know. That's my fault. You're right to say that I failed you," said Alfor. "That is, that the person who made us both, who transferred his memories to me—"

"You don't have to say that every time," the bayard interrupted.

"But it is more precise," Alfor reminded him.

"I don't have time for your jokes!"

"Fair enough. Yet again, you're right. We don't have much time at all. But it's been—that is, it _feels_ like it's been so long since I made a joke. What I meant to ask you, and what I should ask you, is—can you forgive me?"

"I can't feel forgiveness if I can't feel angry in the first place."

"You can't feel angry, but you can feel stubborn, apparently. All right. As you say. But you also said you would have been willing to fight with the paladins, in the past. Are you willing to do so now? To help us?"

The bayard should have replied without delay in the affirmative, but he didn't. He was pausing and considering, and he couldn't disguise the fact. The complete apology from Alfor hadn't been what he'd expected. Alfor had been right to admit that he'd been wrong, but the situation as a whole was more much complicated than a simple matter of right and wrong.

"What is it?" Alfor asked.

"I don't know if they'll want my help." That was it, wasn't it? His purpose was to help them, but there was a risk of being rejected again, as he had been in the past.

"Why would they be foolish enough to refuse such a valuable ally? You're very helpful. I made sure of that."

"They wouldn't trust me, if they knew. Even you didn't."

"No, you're wrong. I was wrong. I admitted my mistake."

Indecision. Hesitation. He hadn't experienced those things before. His purpose had been much more straightforward, once. "They won't understand."

"Coran and Allura know who your paladin was."

The bayard shook his head. "They don't understand, either. They can't. Only you did. But you aren't really here."

"No, but I remember." Alfor's jokes had vanished, as if they were a relic of the past, like he was, but the bayard knew better than to believe they wouldn't resurface. "I know what it was like to care for him. To be his partner."

"One of his commanders is already on his way here."

"That's my understanding."

"If I see him again—" As angry as the bayard had been with Alfor for not trusting him, the thought of encountering Zarkon again made him doubt himself. That was another reason he had been compelled to blurt out his grievances to this Alfor. He'd wanted to hear Alfor's explanations for his actions. If he'd had evidence or plausible theories to present, the bayard had wanted to hear them. He'd wanted to know: what if Alfor had been right about him? 

"I told you," said Alfor, "I should have had faith in you."

"How can I believe that the real Alfor would say that, too?"

Alfor didn't offer him an easy answer to the question. "You have to decide that for yourself. I'm all that's left."

"I know." The response hadn't been satisfactory, but he didn't have time to fully assess the situation and come to a conclusion before Alfor spoke again.

"You're stronger than you ever were."

Again, he was taken by surprise. "How can you say that? It's not possible." He hadn't been operating properly for centuries. If anything, disuse of certain functions would have caused degradation. The best case scenario would have been a lack of changes—not improvement. He hadn't done anything that reasonably could have led to any increase in his productivity or effectiveness.

"You were designed with unique, adaptive programming. I intended for it to change in response to your experiences. It finally has."

"I can't decide if you're complimenting yourself or not."

"Would I do a thing like that?"

The bayard had heard Alfor ask similar questions, but in the course of conversations with someone else. He didn't want to recall those conversations. He didn't respond. Alfor frowned. "You can speak openly with me. I won't share your confidences with anyone else."

He had no reason to trust this projection would keep his secrets, but he did trust him nonetheless. He wouldn't have told anyone else what he told Alfor. "I'm supposed to be with him."

"Yes."

"You made me for him."

"I did."

"How could they trust me, if they knew that?"

"But you could have gone with him. Or you could have returned to him. At any moment, as you said. It would have been ridiculously easy."

"I could have." It would have been easier to do that than it had been to resist. For all that time, he had been sought. He had been wanted. His solitude could have been ended in an instant.

"Yet you didn't."

"No, I didn't."

"To me, that says a great deal. It has ten thousand years' worth of importance."

"But—"

He didn't finish that phrase, yet Alfor seemed to know what he'd meant. "He's not the same person," he said. "We'll never see that person again."

All available evidence indicated that that was true, but the bayard was experiencing an internal conflict. His programming indicated that he should act to protect the people of the universe, but his programming also indicated that he should assist Zarkon. When he had made him, Alfor must not have believed that they would see a time when those two mandates would conflict with each other.

"Please," said Alfor, "help them. They need you."

He couldn't consider this a request from Alfor. Alfor was gone. Nonetheless, it was a valid request. The bayard replayed the entirety of the preceding exchange in a moment's time. He reconsidered his interactions with Allura, Shiro, and the other paladins—all the input he had received since returning to full power. He also considered older, archived information: his communications with the real Alfor and with the previous paladins. Reviewing all the organic life forms he had known, he revisited a flood of familiar faces. Smiling, scowling, crying, laughing—they displayed so many expressions. At times, they closed their eyes, and their expressions faded out. Finally, he brought up the image of a face he knew very well, having recorded it almost daily for many decades. The yellow sclera with their red irises, narrowing in the sunlight, their pupils dwindling to slits. The mouth opening, revealing sharp teeth. "You agree with me, don't you?" he'd said, to his bayard, thousands of years ago.

He had been right.

"I don't see why you two are always teaming up against me," Alfor, the real Alfor, had laughed, thousands of years ago. "It seems disloyal of you both."

The bayard didn't blink, because he didn't need to blink. He regarded the holographic Alfor, who was glowing and frowning faintly in concern.

"I've made my decision," the bayard said.


	6. Limited Time Engagement

Shiro couldn't shake his sense of unease. The bayard was behaving irrationally, lashing out at people and going so far as to grab Coran's wrist. His behavior wasn't comparable to the operation of any of the other Altean technology they'd come into contact with so far. As awe-inspiring and incredibly advanced as the lions were, they would respond to commands and maintained their functions as vehicles to be piloted. The black bayard was so unlike the other bayards that Shiro wouldn't have guessed that they were related devices, if Allura hadn't informed him.

Part of the reason for that was that it felt wrong to think of someone who behaved so much like a person as a _device_. With the lions and the other bayards, Shiro felt on more solid ground, because they did resemble artificial creations, no matter how miraculous. Machines like these could cause damage, to the extent of great destruction, but ultimately, it was people who made and directed them, and people who were responsible for violence. An erratic machine making its own choices—that was new to him, and the novelty made it difficult to plan a course of action. He had no frame of reference.

He would have been more worried that the bayard might destabilize into dangerous behavior, if not for the way Coran and Allura were reacting to him. Allura was concerned, but not alarmed, and Coran had been tolerant with the bayard in a way that struck Shiro as fond, even—gentle. The bayard hadn't given any sign of noticing that. Shiro was willing to trust that the two people who knew more about the bayard than he did were a better judge of what to expect from him. He hadn't known Allura and Coran long, but he already had a lot of reasons to trust them.

Once the bayard had gone, Shiro's first action was to step toward Allura, who stood staring down the hallway down which Coran and the bayard had disappeared. He didn't want to ask her outright, in front of everyone, whether she was all right, when she so clearly wasn't. He did want to show her his support, as best he could.

"The last thing we need is another problem," said Allura, frowning.

"That's the truth," said Shiro.

"We need to know where he stands and whether we can count on him. Otherwise, we'll have to make a plan that doesn't include him." She sighed. "I'd hoped things would be different."

There were a lot of things he'd hoped would turn out differently than they had, so he could empathize. "I know we're all very different people, with different opinions," said Shiro, "but you know more about the factors involved here than any of us. I think I speak for all of us when I say that we're all on your side. Whatever we can do, we'll do it."

As he'd expected, the others were quick to chime in with their agreement. Conversations with the three of them involved could get a little—chaotic, but Shiro was already confident that they were—not only good people—but people he could count on in a crisis. They'd already accomplished more amazing and dangerous things than most people three times their age. They'd also done them well. Where a crew was concerned, he could have done much, much worse. He was proud to be their commanding officer. He just needed to keep an eye on them.

"Thank you, Shiro," said Allura, with a faint but grateful smile. "I hope your faith in me is justified. I'm not sure—what I should do yet, but speaking to my father should help." She wasn't entirely at ease with the thought of seeing her dead father, which Shiro could tell from the way she shifted as she spoke. Shiro wasn't sure how someone's consciousness could be stored in a computer. The idea of interacting with such a being was enough odd to him, and he hadn't known King Alfor, let alone been close to him. He couldn't imagine what she was thinking and feeling about the prospect.

"I trust you," Shiro said simply.

The princess smiled. "I should go—and see if Coran needs me," she said. If she wanted some time to herself before talking to her father, Shiro couldn't blame her for that.

"We'll keep an eye on things here," Shiro said.

"Yeah, you can count on me and Shiro," Lance added, posing at Shiro's elbow with his hands on his hips.

Shiro and Allura both took a moment to consider Lance.

"I won't be too long," said Allura, opting not to comment on Lance's comment.

Shiro watched her leave, with Lance at his side. Lance made a thoughtful noise, once she was out of earshot. "Shiro," he said, in a low voice.

"Yes?" He was expecting Lance to say something relating to Allura, but that was not what he got. 

"I think I pissed off the robot."

Hunk sighed, deeply. "Well, if _anyone_ could piss off a robot..."

Lance turned over his shoulder to shoot a glance at Hunk, narrowing his eyes. "Ha ha, Hunk."

"Sorry, Shiro," said Lance, showing every sign of being genuinely contrite. "It's just that when he said he wasn't going to help us, I just—I mean, it's important. Is he going to stand back and let us die?"

"We're not going to die, Lance," said Shiro, with a touch more confidence than he felt. He knew what the Galra were capable of, but even without the bayard, they now had advantages he couldn't have dreamed of when he'd landed on earth in his wounded ship.

"Hey, Pidge," said Hunk, and Shiro turned to see Pidge and Hunk gazing at each other meaningfully, communing with an intensity that included neither him nor Lance.

"Do you think maybe—" Pidge began.

Hunk completed the sentence, dreamily. "—he has emotional processing capabilities?"

"A fully sentient AI, complete with feelings," sighed Pidge.

"Yeah, but is he going to help us?" asked Lance, not as distracted by scientific discovery as his two classmates.

Shiro could tell Lance was harboring suspicion of the black bayard, a suspicion he himself shared. "Look, Lance," he said. "He's been out of commission for a while. He probably needs some time to adjust." Shiro was offering this possibility to both himself and Lance. "So let's be patient. Even if we don't have a lot of time, we have a little. It's been ten thousand years for him, so we can't expect him to do everything perfectly. It's like—" Shiro hesitated between a computer analogy and a more human one, and he opted for the human. "—like when you're taking a really long nap, and someone wakes you up suddenly."

He could tell he'd made the right comparison. "Oh yeah." Lance nodded in sympathy. "Don't even talk to me after that happens."

"Seriously," Hunk agreed. "Don't do it. I've done it—and don't."

"I wouldn't do it," Pidge said. "But I wouldn't talk to you after you'd been awake for a while, either."

"Ha ha, Pidge," said Lance. "Everyone's _real_ funny today." He paused. "Except the robot. This is the first time I've ever made an electronic mad. I think."

"No, electronics are usually pretty angry with you, if your simulator scores are anything to to go by," said Hunk.

Lance sniffed. "I'm actually a real machine charmer. I've got kind of a magic touch."

"Magic ouch," said Hunk. "If we're going by the simulations."

Lance scoffed. "You can't go by those, they're not real! I've got a real way with Blue, for a start."

"I'm remembering a very rough start," said Pidge.

"Guys, come on." Shiro wasn't unamused, but he felt it was his place to intervene. "Give Lance a chance." He realized too late that he'd rhymed. He shouldn't have done that.

Lance beamed. "That's one of my catchphrases! Leave it to me, Shiro. I'll reboot his compute, reroute his pout."

As Lance was looking at him hopefully for affirmation following this even more questionable rhyming, Shiro gave him an encouraging laugh. Lance perked up, and Shiro had to stop himself from laughing a second time, fondly, at the thought that Lance felt bad about hurting a robot's feelings.

"I wonder if he eats," said Hunk, thoughtfully. "I could make him a cupcake. Or, an energy cupcake."

"Or what if he gets cold in space? We could knit him a hat," Lance suggested.

Hunk was quick to start nodding at this, although Shiro didn't know how they'd moved on to knitting. "With a personal logo, or something," Hunk suggested.

"Please," Pidge countered, "what a robot is going to want, more than anything, is practical equipment. Although the energy cupcake isn't a bad idea. Some kind of portable power source— I do need to know more about his operating system first. I wonder if he really is going to give us his schematics. He said he would, but his design is sensitive information. You wouldn't want enemies getting their hands on it."

"I don't think a robot would lie to us about that though," said Hunk, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Anyway, we'll be super careful with it!"

They'd gone from being argumentative to being admittedly—cute. Shiro struggled to keep his expression sober and responsible throughout the part about making the robot a hat. He had to maintain the bearing of a leader, but it was not always an easy feat. If they did go so far as to make a hat, he was going to be in danger of losing it. Commanding this group came with its own, interesting challenges. 

If he needed to sober up, he only had to remember the proximity of the Galra warship. That did help to eliminate his smile, but he didn't remind his fellow paladins of the fact, since it was good for their morale to smile and joke around together. Better for them than being continually frightened. What impressed him most about his team as whole, independent of their individual skills, was their resilience. They might be in grave danger—or have recently escaped grave danger—but they'd laugh and tease each other as if it was an ordinary day at the garrison for them. It wasn't the same as not taking their situation seriously, even if Shiro, at times, thought a joke had gone too far. They had great coping skills. Not that they never lost their heads or panicked. They were going to do that sometimes, considering the dire circumstances and their level of training—but he had faith in their endurance and their potential. No wonder they'd been chosen as paladins.

They'd cheered up, but the mood shifted again when a figure appeared, heading toward them down the corridor. The compact form and sure movements of the black bayard were unmistakable. Allura and Coran, Shiro assumed, had remained wherever King Alfor's computer data was being stored.

Lance was still standing next to Shiro, and Shiro was aware of him tensing. Pidge and Hunk fell silent, but they looked more expectant than worried. Good. Shiro didn't need the black bayard to feel like they were at odds with him. He wanted him to become their ally.

Not that the bayard paid any attention to Lance, Hunk, and Pidge for the moment. He came to a halt a pace or two from Shiro. Shiro faced him. He understood how Hunk and Pidge felt. The bayard's design was miraculously lifelike, a fact that struck him anew every time he found himself faced with him. He wasn't used to him yet.

The bayard reached out for Shiro, his hand stopping millimeters short of making contact with him. "You," he said.

"Me," agreed Shiro calmly.

"We need to bond."

"Right," Shiro said. He wasn't sure exactly what that entailed, but if the bayard was reaching out to him, it struck him as a good sign.

The bayard glanced at Lance, eyes narrowing slightly. Lance, as usual, felt called upon to respond. "I like bonding. Bonding is good," he said, putting on a knowledgeable tone. Shiro knew he wanted to be included, and was pleased that he had decided not to be confrontational.

The bayard's eyes un-narrowed, but he had no response to Lance's opinion. "We don't have time to wait around," he told Shiro sharply. "Come with me."

"Lead the way." Shiro wasn't about to look a gift robot in the mouth. Not that that expression was entirely fitting in this situation, but he fortunately hadn't said that out loud.

The bayard didn't grab Shiro's wrist impatiently, as he had with Coran, but judging by his expression, he considered it. He restrained himself, however, and lost no time in striding away. "I'll be back," said Shiro to his team. "At some point." He couldn't be more specific than that.

"Not soon," said the bayard, without turning. He'd already put some distance between himself and Shiro.

"In a while," Shiro confirmed, raising a hand to bid the others farewell. They looked very much as if they wanted to come along rather than leave him at the mercy of the bayard, but Shiro kept his hand up for another moment, palm flat, to indicate that they should stay where they were.

"If we don't train now, we won't be ready when the warship arrives," the bayard said, once he'd caught up. His pace was rapid enough that Shiro had to lengthen his strides. "You don't even have your lion. We're going to be outmatched."

Whatever the bayard had discussed with King Alfor had made an impact on him. For now, he was determined to help. Shiro couldn't imagine what had passed between the robot and the computer program, but he was glad about whatever it was. Coran had been right. The king must have found a diplomatic solution. They were fortunate to have him with them, if only in the form of recorded data. He still couldn't imagine what it must be like for Allura to speak to her father in that form. He wished the king was still alive—mostly for Allura and Coran's sakes, but also for the rest of them. There were a lot of people and things that they were lacking here.

Although they did apparently have the black bayard on their side, the bayard himself had brought up a valid point: having a functional black lion would have been even better. "Can you communicate with the lion at all? Even though it's not activated?"

"Not exactly. I'm aware of its presence, due to my nature, but it's completely deactivated without the others. Although sometimes I sense—more than that."

"Like what?"

"You'd probably say it's like a dream."

"They can dream?"

"No. But that's the closest comparison. No one but a bayard or another lion would be able to understand it. An organic brain couldn't process it."

Lion dreams. He liked the thought. "Do you have those, too? Those dreams—or things like dreams?"

"Something like that."

Shiro was curious about this fascinating piece of information, but he had no intention of prying further when the bayard didn't elaborate. The bayard may not have been organic, but he appeared to have personal thoughts, nonetheless.

"It's not important," the bayard was quick to say. "What's important is that we learn to fight together."

"I'd like that. Where are we going to do that, exactly?"

"The training deck, of course."

"Oh, of course." There hadn't been time for a complete tour of the ship, as one issue after another had surfaced and required his attention, but he was intrigued by the idea of a training deck. It was relevant to his interests, and considering the rest of the technology here, he didn't doubt it would be impressive.

When they stepped through the entryway into the broad, almost cavernous training area, Shiro was proven right: he was impressed by the size and scope of it. The lights came on automatically, gleaming across the pale surfaces. Shiro experienced a tilting moment of disorientation, then, as a memory shuddered through his mind. Cheers soared toward an impossibly high ceiling, filled with shadows instead of light. The surrounding space, impossibly, took on weight. Instead of being open and free, it solidified into a mass and began to press down on him—but at the same time, it was too big, too empty, too alien. It was crushing him and sending him flying into the unknown at the same time. Shiro carefully reminded himself of where he was and what he was doing. He reminded himself to breathe. It wasn't real. It would pass.

The bayard waited, watching him as his pulse slowed back to normal levels, but said nothing. Shiro took a breath. He was already feeling better. These lapses were brief, but fragments of memory returned to him at odd intervals, rarely when he expected them. He smiled at the bayard, wondering if his fitness as a paladin was being evaluated. The bayard hadn't precisely said that he'd accepted him. Not yet.

"So," said Shiro, speaking as if his momentary disorientation hadn't happened, "I'm ready for training, if you are."

"I am. This training deck can produce opponents for us and adjust their difficulty based on our level of skill."

"That's useful." He could see how practical such a system would be when it came to training the other paladins. They could use the varying difficulty levels. "How do you suggest we start?" He was willing to follow the bayard's lead here. This was _his_ training session. Shiro was the student.

"Not with an opponent. First, you have to learn how to use me."

This wasn't the kind of conversation Shiro was used to having, but he was going to have to get used to it, considering that this person was also a weapon. He could do this. It was a matter of practice and concentration. "And how do I go about that?"

For someone with no feelings, the bayard did a convincing job of imitating impatience. "You just take hold of me. I'll shift into another form based on your unconscious thoughts."

"Simple enough," said Shiro. "Where should I—?"

"It doesn't matter. I'll respond at contact, like the other bayards."

Having seen the other paladins using their bayards made the tranformation easier to visualize, so that was useful. He reached out and took hold of the bayard, the fingers of his real hand closing on the bayard's upper arm.

Nothing happened.

He and the bayard both waited, but nothing continued to happen, and as the seconds passed, it became more and more apparent that nothing was going to happen.

"Let go and try again," the bayard commanded.

Shiro withdrew his arm, then tried again. This time, he let his hand settle on the bayard's waist, hoping that a different contact point might have a different results, regardless of the bayard's earlier words. The result was the same, but Shiro let his hand linger where it was, hoping the prolonged contact would give the change time to take effect.

Shiro assumed the bayard's clothing was generated by his body, rather than existing separately. It would have to be, if he could change size and shape quickly. The dark material was slightly textured. It didn't feel like leather. It was more like a wetsuit, although not exactly like that, either. He couldn't feel any body heat rising from it, but it wasn't cold. The light bands on the bayard's limbs glowed faintly, blue and purple. There was something almost ghostly about that purple light. Although he was a creation of Altean technology, nothing else here glowed with that light. No, it reminded him of something else entirely, but he tried not to let the comparison come to the forefront of his mind.

"Why isn't it working?" asked the bayard. "Are you thinking of me as a person?"

"Honestly—yes."

"Don't."

"It's a little difficult, considering that we're talking right now. I'm not used to talking with objects." Yes, he might curse at table if he stubbed his toe on it, but that was a very different situation.

"Try it again," said the bayard, "but this time, envision me as a weapon consciously. A specific weapon."

"What kind?"

"Whatever kind you'd like to use. And grab me more firmly. That could help."

No. That suggestion didn't help. It made this more awkward, but the bayard showed no awareness of that. The practical robot wouldn't be thinking about the various connotations of gripping someone and using them. Shiro was going to try not to think about that, either. He gripped the bayard's arm again, and he envisioned a weapon. He thought of a sword, since it was the first thing that came to mind: a classic weapon, and easy to visualize.

"It's not working. You can hold me more tightly. You're not physically strong enough to hurt me."

Obligingly, Shiro tightened his grip further, but it made no difference.

"Think of a different weapon."

Shiro doubted that would change the situation, but he dutifully thought of a gun instead, imagining a blaster not unlike the one Lance's bayard had taken the form of.

"I don't understand," said the bayard, frustration plain in his voice. "It should be working. The other paladins could do it. What's wrong with you?"

Shiro decided not to take that remark too personally. Maybe it was born out of the emotions that the bayard claimed not to feel. Or it was due to his long period of inactivity, as he'd told Lance. Nonetheless, the idea that there was something _wrong_ with him was one that had already been haunting the corners of Shiro's mind, so it didn't make him feel good. He let go of the bayard.

"I think you're still thinking of me as a person. I'm going to try something else."

"All right, whatever you think is best," said Shiro. He was starting to feel frustrated himself, but he didn't want to blame the bayard for that.

"I'm going to take the usual base form of a bayard. That will help you stop thinking of me as a person. I'm not going to be able to move or talk to you when like that, so you'll have to pick me up and try thinking of more weapons."

That wasn't a bad idea. Shiro was finding it difficult to wholeheartedly believe that the bayard wasn't a person when he was so lifelike and so lively—frowning and sighing at him and pursing his lips when Shiro failed to carry out his orders successfully. Shiro was frustrated, but he also found these responses endearing, partly because they were so—well, person-like. The bayard seemed to be waiting for verbal confirmation, so Shiro said, "All right, I'm ready."

The transformation was so quick that Shiro was unable to track its progress. There was a light, and then, where the bayard had been standing, an object was lying on the floor. It was similar to the other bayards in shape, but it was also different: much darker and sharper than he had been. It was black and pale purple, glowing with a purple light, and he had to admit to himself finally that it resembled a Galra weapon much more than the other bayards did.

It wasn't, though. It was part of Voltron. It was Altean. He was thinking too much about the Galra; his memories were poisoning everything. He reached down and picked the bayard up, his hand folding around the central handle. Its weight settled in his hand, and it felt natural as he swung his hand slowly and experimentally through the air. As he'd been told, he tried thinking of weapons, running through a number of them: sword, gun, spear, whip, bow and arrow. Nothing happened, but the bayard continued to glow with its eerie purple light. Shiro preferred it when the bayard was a person. He was also alien in that form, but somehow less so.

If Shiro was doing something wrong, he couldn't guess what it might be. He had experience interfacing with alien technology, considering his arm, but it wasn't a topic he _knew_ about. He tried envisioning the weapons in different ways. He tried moving his arm as if striking out with a weapon. He was patient. Nothing he tried had any result. There wasn't even the bayard's sharp voice to give him guidance. He was on his own. Yet he didn't let that deter him. He kept trying, and when the bayard was in this form, it was easier to tell himself that he wasn't an individual with his own needs and wants and autonomy. 

Easier, but not _easy_. Shiro was still thinking of him as a "him". Not a machine. He wondered if he should join the bayard and Allura in talking to King Alfor. He didn't know much about the man, but as he'd been the king of the Alteans, who'd fought against the Galra, he might have some more insight about the kind of cooperation that was called for. Alfor had helped the bayard. Maybe he could help Shiro. Shiro needed it. He wasn't one to rush through a process, but as the valuable time continued to slip away, he was eventually forced to admit that this method wasn't working. The bayard's form remained stubbornly static, and Shiro's mind stubbornly continued to humanize him. He hadn't known him too long, but now he knew him too well for that to work.

Gently, slowly, he put the bayard down. "I think we need to try something else."

The bayard remained in that small, inanimate form for another few seconds, long enough for Shiro to question whether he was going to change back. He had started to doubt his own mind and his ability to communicate with the bayard in this form, when there was a pulse of light. The change, again, was almost immediate. Shiro was suddenly being stared down by an angry young man. "No, we have to keep trying," said the bayard. "Did you give up already?"

"I wouldn't say I've given up," said Shiro. "But I have another idea."

"What idea?" Shiro could tell by the look on his face and the angle of his eyebrows that the bayard was already prejudiced against whatever he was going say.

"If we're supposed to have a connection with each other, maybe we should spend a little time getting to know each other better."

"I didn't have to do that last time," the bayard said.

Right. Last time. With his other paladin. Was that part of the problem? If he had been partnered with the previous black paladin for a while, he would have grown used to them. Maybe he even missed them. Not that he struck Shiro as someone who was likely to admit that. Shiro tried to be very careful in his phrasing when he replied. "Maybe, because I'm so different, it'll take some extra time. Or a different technique."

He half expected resistance to this idea, but after a brief, thoughtful pause, the bayard replied, "It could."

Shiro smiled. "When you first met your previous paladin, you were able to work together right away?"

There was another pause, but it was followed by another reply. "Yes. I could read what he was thinking, and I would do it. I didn't have to think about it."

"So you can't tell what I'm thinking?"

"No."

Shiro had assumed that this training session was for his benefit, and that he was the one expending effort, but the bayard must have been struggling at the same time. That knowledge put their interactions in a new light. No wonder the bayard was so frustrated. He hadn't been able to do something that had previously been automatic. "Is it all right if I ask about the other black paladin?"

"It's all right," said the black bayard, but he sounded wary.

"Was there only one other black paladin?" He assumed so, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he was missing a lot of history. If he knew more about the last time the bayard had worked with someone, when the process had been successful, it could help him through this problem.

"Yes. Just one." 

"What was your relationship with him like?"

"We worked together well."

"Were you very close?"

"I spent most of my time with him, although I would spend time with the other paladins, too."

"Why did you do that?" Shiro was curious about how the whole system worked. All the parts were intimately connected, yet he'd never seen them work together. There were parts missing.

"I helped them communicate with their lions. And their bayards. It helped, for us to all spend time together. Sometimes they asked me to help them with things."

This obviously wasn't an easy conversation for him to have, considering the halting nature of his answers. Shiro tried to envision an entirely different team of paladins, and he failed. It had been such a long time ago. It had practically been another universe altogether. "Can you tell me more about your paladin? What was he like?"

"He was practical. He didn't waste time on trivialities. He got to the point."

Shiro couldn't decisively say whether these remarks were pointed and aimed at him, or if they were simply remarks. It also didn't escape him that the bayard's description was vague. Was descriptiveness a challenge for him, or was he reluctant to say more? "Admirable traits," said Shiro. He and the bayard were still guarded with each other.

"They were," said the bayard.

He could be grieving. All the paladins had been lost, along with an entire civilization. It would be natural, even imperative, to grieve such a loss. Even someone who technically couldn't experience must have felt the impact of a tragedy on that scale. He must be processing it. Shiro couldn't pry further. It didn't feel right.

"Maybe we should try to focus first on our thoughts, not on transformations. If thoughts are the basis of the process. We could start at the beginning. I'll think of something, and you can try to read my thoughts. How does that sound?" He wasn't giving orders here, but he was willing to make a suggestion.

"I'll try it," said the bayard.

That was less resistance than he'd been expecting, but he wasn't being entirely fair in expecting protests. The bayard _had_ agreed to work with him. They were both trying here. "Would it be better if we were making physical contact?" 

"It might be."

"Well—" Shiro spread his arms in what he hoped was a welcoming gesture. "Go ahead."

The bayard nodded, then stepped forward to place a hand lightly on his chest. His hand was relatively small, but Shiro was very aware of how close and how powerful he was. He would be a dangerous enemy to have, but he was an ally now.

Shiro had decided not to think of a weapon this time. Weapons hadn't been much help. Instead, he was going to keep his mind focused on a simple, pleasant image that would be easy to maintain. He settled on picturing one of his childhood pets: a little tortoiseshell cat named Mugi. She'd been the first pet that had really been his alone, entirely his responsibility. She'd been his loyal companion throughout most of his childhood and into young adulthood. She came into his mind first because thinking about her cheered him up. So, he thought about her. Why not think of something nice?

Niceness, however, didn't mean it was going to work. The two of them hadn't managed to connect at all, whether the problem lay with Shiro, with the bayard, or in another direction altogether. By all appearances, the bayard was genuinely attempting to make a connection. He closed his eyes and stood before Shiro with the most solemn expression on his face. In the presence of such earnestness, Shiro felt more determined, picturing his cat as clearly and carefully as he could. Instead of closing his eyes, he kept his gaze fixed on the bayard, hoping that that might create more of a link between them, as he focused simultaneously on bayard and feline.

A crease formed between the bayard's eyebrows, and Shiro was surprised when a shudder went through him, passing across the bayard's entire body, even as his hand remained on Shiro's chest. Shiro didn't feel anything when it happened, but he saw it. It wasn't like a human's twitching or shivering. The strange, jerky movement was more like—he couldn't think of what to compare it to other than a computer glitch, but it wasn't exactly like that, either.

The bayard's eyes snapped open. They had changed completely. They weren't eyes as he was familiar with them. Pupils and iris and sclera were no longer discernible. Both eyes were burning with a purple light, the same color as the illuminated bands on the bayard's body. The bayard's face contorted, as if in pain. He grimaced and tensed. He had the expression of someone in the midst of a fight, as if he were expending a great effort, but he didn't change position, his hand still resting on Shiro's chest.

Nothing about the light in his eyes seemed normal, but Shiro hadn't been given an operating manual or a tutorial for the black bayard. The light could be a side effect of the effort he was exerting, but it was hard for Shiro to come up with a way to explain why he might look so pained.

Should he interrupt their connection? Should he go for help? The more seconds passed, the more unnerved he was by those glowing eyes. He was about to pull away, when the bayard finally spoke. "I—"

Shiro hesitated, waiting to hear what he was going to say.

"—won't," the bayard finished, with a force that Shiro hadn't heard in his voice before.

Before Shiro could react, there was a flash of light, and in the resulting instant of confusion, Shiro felt something small and soft settle against his chest. Instinctively, he moved his arm to take hold of it. Dazed, he looked down and faced the miraculous sight of a cat. His own cat, Mugi, gazing up at him, wide-eyed.

This was not what Shiro had been expecting. He'd thought the bayard was going to look into his mind this time, then tell him what he was thinking—not transform into whatever it was. The cat blinked at him. Shiro felt happy and sad all at once, along with his uncertainty and surprise: a jumble of emotions that was almost enough to disorient him. He'd never thought he'd hold Mugi again, but he was well aware this wasn't really his cat. He had to steel himself to remain still and not pet the animal as he usually would have done—and very much wanted to do.

He didn't have to struggle long. The cat leapt away from him, and the bayard regained his usual form in mid-air, landing lightly on his feet in front of Shiro. Shiro was at a loss for words in response to what he'd witnessed. "So. That—worked," he managed.

"What was that?" the bayard asked.

"A cat," said Shiro. He reminded himself that an alien robot might never have seen a cat, so he explained, "My pet. An animal from Earth."

"We had a similar species on Altea. Why did you think of it?"

"I just did," said Shiro. He probably should have had a better reason, but he'd wanted to picture something non-threatening, even friendly.

"That shouldn't have happened," said the bayard, and Shiro was reassured by the sound of that already-familiar note of irritation in his voice.

The bayard could have been referring to his previous pained expression and glowing eyes, or to his transformation into a cat. Shiro asked, "Are you all right?"

The bayard shrugged, as if disregarding the possibility that he might be in any distress. "It did work," he admitted grudgingly, "but not for long."

"It's progress, though, right?" Strange and difficult progress, yes, but progress nonetheless.

The bayard nodded. "It is," he admitted. Shiro was glad to hear that, but the bayard remorselessly added: "But not enough. The red lion will be here soon. We can't fight like that."

Was he not going to mention or explain what had happened when his eyes had started to glow? Apparently not. Shiro was left to wonder if that had been another result of his ten thousand years alone. There were a lot of things he was wondering about, but chief among them was what to do next. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy turning robots into cats, but they had a battle to prepare for. "Listen—you said you would give Hunk and Pidge your schematics. Maybe if they look them over, they could think of something that might help." He was reaching, but he was willing to reach. A certain amount of reaching was required right now. Victory was not close at hand.

"I'll give them my schematics, but they're not going to be very useful."

Shiro hadn't expected much, so he wasn't too disappointed by the answer. "Why not?"

"My creator didn't write everything down, and he believed in including an element of chance in some of his inventions."

"Chance?" Shiro had never heard of anyone relying on the element of chance in designing complicated technology, but he wasn't an engineer himself. Chance probably played a role, but was it often deliberately factored in? He'd have to ask Pidge or Hunk about that someday.

"He didn't always know what he was doing. He said surprises were fun."

The bayard had said "fun" in the same tone that some people used to discuss their dental surgery. The bayard wasn't a master of description, but it was impossible for Shiro not to pick up on how different this creator must have been from the original black paladin. "It just occurred to me to ask this, but—who is your creator?"

The bayard frowned. "What?"

"Is that an obvious question?"

"I thought you knew," said the bayard. "It's Alfor."

Oh. That would have been useful to know from the beginning. Shiro understood how hectic things were. There were undoubtedly many more facts he would have been told if they had been dealing with more time and less dread, but that one was particularly relevant to their current situation. Shiro needed to process this. He was now unexpectedly faced with the challenge of reconciling the serious, fatherly king he had been envisioning as Allura's father with the bayard's portrait of a quirky inventor who left robot-making to chance, for fun. Shiro hadn't planned to sound like Coran, but before he could stop himself, he was doing it. "Then why don't we ask King Alfor?"


	7. Progress Report

They had advanced from where they'd started. Shiro was grateful to have made strides, even relatively small ones, but the minimal success of their partnership wasn't enough. Not when taking into consideration the amount of time they had left and their limited resources. If there was anything or anyone else in the castle that could help them defend themselves from the Galra, they had no choice but to gain whatever benefit they could from it.

Or so Shiro believed, but the bayard didn't agree, quickly dismissing his suggestion. "I already spoke to Alfor."

"I know that, but if we tell him what problems we've encountered in our practice, he might have some insight into why it's not working for us." Knowing that King Alfor was responsible for the bayard's creation had changed his view of the situation as a whole, as well as the king himself. 

"I know more about my own operating system than Alfor does."

Where that kind of technical detail was concerned, Shiro was out of his depth, and he wasn't going to argue that point. "I'm not saying that you don't, but—"

The bayard didn't let him finish. "I have dynamic programming, and it changes in response to my paladin. Alfor wasn't my paladin."

Shiro felt like a student who had let down his stern professor by not fully understanding the lecture. While he heard what the bayard was saying, he didn't understand what the "change" in response to a paladin would mean. The bayard had, amazingly, turned into his cat, but Shiro suspected that wasn't exactly what he was referring to. Turning into a cat, however charming it was, would be of limited use in combat with the Galra.

"It would be a better use of our time if we kept training," said the bayard, in a tone that indicated any disagreement from Shiro wouldn't go over well. "We don't have time. We can't afford to lose focus now. Why are we even discussing this?"

"I do respect your opinion—"

Again, Shiro found himself interrupted. "No, you don't."

He was meeting resistance again. They'd taken a step forward in their path toward cooperation, followed by the proverbial two steps back. Three steps, even. Shiro continued to speak, as if the interruption hadn't taken place. "—but I would like to speak briefly with King Alfor. It's important, if I'm going to serve as the black paladin, that I take advantage of a chance to confer with one of the first paladins."

"That _isn't_ Alfor."

It wasn't that Shiro didn't sympathize. He did. He understood that to someone who had known King Alfor personally, a convincing copy of him might be more disturbing than comforting. He didn't have that personal connection to the king. "But it does have the benefit of his experience." Shiro was using his calmest voice. It was no wonder they were having difficulty forming a partnership. They kept clashing on almost every point, or that was how it felt. Shiro didn't like to strong-arm people under his command. He preferred to communicate and collaborate. Yet he was so new to this command and the castle that he lacked enough information to suggest a compromise that could satisfy them both. 

"I have my experience, and that's enough."

"I do value your experience, and I respect that you don't need anyone else's perspective, but I might. This is all very new to me. My planet doesn't have anything like this." He hoped the hand gesture that accompanied his words was able to indicate that he Shiro wasn't sure how else he could convince him. He could only be honest.

The bayard didn't contradict him, this time. He didn't agree with him, either. Instead, he changed the subject. "Is that where it is—on your planet?" 

"Excuse me?" That was unexpected shift, and Shiro didn't follow.

"Your pet. The one from before."

"She was my pet when I was a child. She died years ago."

The bayard nodded. "Animals like that don't live long."

Shiro had the oddest feeling that something had changed. It was like the shift in the air when pressure drops, but he couldn't immediately pinpoint the cause of the feeling. "No, not comparatively."

"Neither did the ones on Altea. Comparatively."

Since the bayard was displaying interest in the cat, Shiro decided to encourage further conversation about a topic other than King Alfor or their progress as partners. This training session wasn't about combat, not at its most essential. It was about forming connections between them. "I wonder how many species similar to Altean animals Earth has. We must both have lions, too."

"How long does your species live?" asked the bayard abruptly. 

That question was more personal, but a matter of basic biology. "It varies, but 80 to 90 years would be a long life, although people do live into their hundreds. Overall, human life expectancy has been increasing."

"That's not very long," the bayard said. "Compared to Alteans."

"No, I suppose it isn't." He wasn't going to be offended by a factual remark, however bluntly his comparatively short life was spoken of. He had no control over his species' lifespan, and the bayard had been in existence for more than ten thousand years. Of course human lives would seem short to him.

"You look like Alteans. More than other species I've seen, so your worlds must be similar in some ways."

Shiro was being scrutinized again, but he had no objections. He returned the bayard's gaze as openly as possible. Patience was the best way of dealing with their problem. He'd faced difficult people before, at the Garrison and elsewhere. Difficult people weren't in short supply on Earth. He could deal with another one, however alien.

"But you don't have the same markings," continued the bayard, "and your ears—they're the most different."

The princess' unfavorable reaction to Lance's ears was fresh in Shiro's mind, and he nodded. Wait— _That_ was what had changed. Shiro's gaze shifted to the robot's ears. They weren't the same as they'd been before. He was positive they'd been as pointed as any Altean's, the last time he'd taken note of them, but now... "They're round," said Shiro.

"I know they are."

"No, not my ears. I mean, yes—my ears are, but also yours."

The bayard frowned, reaching up to touch the sides of his head, tracing the edges of his ears with his fingertips. Nothing else about his appearance had changed. He still bore the same black Altean facial markings. "I didn't notice," the bayard said, and he sounded so confused that Shiro wanted to put a hand on his shoulder to reassure him.

He didn't put a hand on his shoulder, but he said, "I may be biased, but I think they look pretty nice."

The bayard didn't appreciate the remark. His frown stayed where it was. Shiro had known lightheartedness wouldn't be well-received, but that knowledge hadn't stopped him. "Was your previous paladin an Altean?"

The bayard chose to ignore the question, saying instead, "It's not supposed to work this way."

"How is it supposed to work?"

"I can't control it like I should. And you can't control it."

Shiro recalled the unnerving moment in which the bayard's eyes had changed color. That must have been related to this problem. That couldn't be normal procedure. "Do you have any idea why that could be happening?"

"No." It was a flat answer, but his opinion on the matter was clear in his frown. "But we did make progress." One of his hands lightly touched one of his ears again. He lowered his hand quickly, and this physical evidence of their progress didn't clear up his expression. "Fine. We can talk to Alfor. But we won't stop practicing. It's a training exercise."

Shiro was glad he hadn't yet formulated a compromise of his own, because the bayard being the one to do so felt like an important step. "I'll report the problems to Alfor," said the bayard. "He might know what we can do, but no paladins have had problems like this before." Shiro didn't miss the way the bayard glanced at his prosthetic arm as he said this. 

That was another possible obstacle. It had occurred to him, too, that the alien technology might be interfering. He didn't know how the limb functioned, or how it interfaced with his mind in order to be able to translate his brain activity into motion. That lack of information was a constant source of concern, but it wasn't one he could allow himself to focus on too much, because there was nothing he could do about it. He had to deal with what he had been given.

"Come with me," said the bayard. "If you feel like taking hold of me at any point, then do it. It could mean that we're connecting."

"All right," said Shiro, while remaining skeptical that he was going to feel comfortable grabbing someone without warning. "I'll keep that in mind."

The bayard touched one of his ears again, then turned to lead Shiro from the training deck and into the corridors of the castle. Shiro didn't recognize the route they were taking. He would have to memorize the castle's layout, as soon as he had the opportunity to do so, but the limited time they were dealing with meant that many tasks which could have been useful had fallen by the wayside, if they weren't immediately necessary.

Shiro trusted that the bayard knew these halls as well as Allura and Coran did. Even though his system was separate from the castle's, he might have an ability to interface with it, since the lions were housed here. That was another technical matter Shiro wasn't sure about. He'd have to ask later. Remaining aware of his obligations as they walked together, Shiro steeled himself and placed a hand on the bayard's shoulder. 

The bayard hesitated, expectant, then shook his head. "Nothing."

Shiro pulled his hand back. He'd tried, but the bayard's transformation into a cat and the alteration of his ears had, if anything, made Shiro think of him as more of an individual, rather than less. He couldn't imagine how the previous black paladin had managed to think of him as a weapon. Maybe he'd had more training beforehand, and a greater understanding of the whole system. Shiro didn't know how the situation of the previous paladins had differed, and the bayard had already demonstrated that he wasn't going to be forthcoming, if asked.

"Here we are," said the bayard, as he turned off of the corridor and slipped through a doorway. There was no sign of Allura or Coran at their destination. The Alteans must have already concluded their visit with Alfor. Shiro was struck by how dark, spacious, and empty this room was, as they crossed a narrow walkway to reach what he assumed was the computer in the center. Even the blue Altean light that shone here did little to illuminate the space as a whole.

Shiro couldn't keep himself from thinking of the computer as a tomb, as he walked up to it, a pace behind the bayard. There was someone buried inside, in a sense. Still alive, but not alive. Did King Alfor feel trapped in there? Shiro couldn't imagine what it must be like to exist as a computer program, to have enough consciousness to know that you were a copy rather than the actual person.

"Alfor," said the bayard, continuing not to acknowledge the king's rank when he spoke.

Shiro blinked when the empty room quickly changed. It became—in short succession—first a field full of pink flowers, and then a rocky landscape of dark, reddish rocks. Shiro was adjusting to the realistic but obviously illusionary surroundings when a blue light emerged from the computer before him and resolved into the form of a man.

There was no question in Shiro's mind about whether this was Allura's father. He looked so much like her that Shiro could have selected him out of a crowd of Alteans. He wouldn't have mistaken Alfor for a living person, however. The blue light that made up his body provided a great deal of detail, which was realistic in some ways, but it had the limitations of light, and his mind wasn't tricked into thinking this was a person with mass and weight. That didn't reduce the impressiveness of the accomplishment. Not only was Alfor's consciousness preserved, but he could talk and move and interact with others.

He could express emotions, too, smiling as he regarded Shiro and the black bayard. He was capable of a great subtlety of emotion. Shiro saw a few expressions play across his features before he spoke: curiosity and pleasure, separated by an instant of thoughtfulness that might have been sorrow, concern, or both.

"The new black paladin, I assume," he said, inclining his head graciously in Shiro's direction. "It's a pleasure to see you working together."

"It wasn't my idea to come here again," said the bayard.

Alfor's responding emotion was amusement rather than displeasure at this disrespect. "I'm glad to hear my company is at least in some demand, if this was your idea," he told Shiro. "I'm pleased to have the opportunity to meet you."

"I feel the same, your majesty."

"Alfor will be fine. If you do prefer formality, you could stick the king in front of it, but it's not necessary."

"It's an honor," said Shiro, with a slight bow. It would have felt impolite not to show a monarch that deference.

The bayard didn't feel the same, and was quick to remind Shiro, "That's not the king."

"He's correct," said Alfor. "I wouldn't be eligible to rule in this state."

That didn't mean Alfor wasn't still owed the respect he'd had in life, but Shiro wasn't interested in pursuing an argument on the subject, particularly as Alfor was so willing to let it go.

"As I say," Alfor went on, "I'm pleased to meet you, but I imagine you're seeking more from me than an introduction."

"Yes." Shiro glanced at the bayard, to include him in what he was about to say. "As much as I'd like to get better acquainted, we've been having difficulty working together. I understand that these things might take some time, but time is one thing we don't have."

"It doesn't work," added the bayard. "When I want to change, I can't. Then when I don't want to change, I do. I can't read him right." At least the bayard was cooperating enough to contribute to the conversation.

Once they'd finished speaking, Alfor replied, dispensing with further pleasantries. "Oddly enough, it _didn't_ take time, the first time. It happened almost at once, for all the paladins. Yet I've given this some thought, since we first spoke." He nodded toward the bayard. "What I think the problem is—it's not that the functionality of the lions and the bayards is less than it was. It's also not the fault of the new paladins. It's no one's fault, in fact. The connections between the original paladins and their partners were very strong, so for them to adjust to a new partner could take time. In the very beginning, the lions and the bayards were entirely new. They had no previous connections to contend with. Now, they have to form another bond, but not out of nothing, because there's already a bond there. They need to rewire themselves, you could say, so the process may not go as smoothly as it did before. The closer the original bond, the more time it might take for the new bond to form and take effect."

Alfor had been looking from Shiro to the bayard as he spoke, but as he made this last comment, it was the bayard who his gaze settled on.

The bayard responded with instant vehemence that startled Shiro, who almost took a step back, away from his outburst. "Are you saying that I—" His voice was harsh, with a jagged edge. With an obvious effort, the bayard broke off, mid-exclamation. Shiro was left to wonder what he'd been about to say.

"I said there was no blame to be assigned," said Alfor firmly. The bayard continued to visibly seethe, but he pressed his lips together instead of saying anything else.

"So you're saying that there's no choice but to wait and let things take their course," said Shiro. It would be in everyone's best interest if he continued as if the outburst hadn't taken place.

"It's not the most satisfactory answer," said Alfor, "considering the limited time, but you'll have to keep trying and hope for the best."

_Keep trying and hope for the best_ was a concept that wasn't new to Shiro. Wasn't that exactly what he'd been doing for some time? No, it wasn't a satisfactory answer, but he was up to the challenge. Hoping for more specific advice might have been too optimistic. He tried his best to project an air of appreciation rather than disappointment. Alfor had given him a useful insight.

"The problem is," said Alfor, "the lions and the bayards seemed to almost make themselves, in many ways. Yes, I was engineering them, but I've never been so inspired or so successful, without having to contend with the usual back and forth of trial and error. Honestly, in retrospect, I'm not entirely sure of everything I did, back then."

The bayard had said something similar about Alfor's working process, but when Alfor explained it, it sounded more like a case of uncontrolled inspiration than frivolity. "I finished the black bayard along with the others, and initially he _was_ like the others. I hadn't intended to make him stand out as a leader, like the black lion."

The bayard stood still and stiff as he was being discussed. 

"I did think it was a good idea when it finally occurred to me," said Alfor, "but the idea was so unbidden, it was as if he was insisting upon himself." With that defiant expression on his face, the bayard did resemble someone who was likely to insist. 

"So what you're saying is, there's a lot you don't know." That wasn't helpful, but it was honest, and Shiro appreciated honesty.

"Precisely. When we first flew in the lions, it was at a time of great danger. It was when faced with that danger that we were able to form Voltron. We didn't know that it could happen, but it did. We felt pulled to do it. It could be that the pressure was part of what made us able to work together so well, so quickly. Forged in a fire, as it were."

"But we can't rely on that," said the bayard.

"No. You can't. You can only hope that urgency can help you connect." Alfor's gaze flickered toward the bayard. "I like your new ears, by the way."

"At least it's harder to hear you with smaller ears," said the bayard.

It was a rude remark, but Alfor laughed at it good naturedly. Shiro kept watching Alfor instead of turning to the bayard, and he saw an emotion in Alfor's eyes as he laughed that could only be sadness. As for the reason for that sadness: that, he couldn't guess. As with so many other aspects of their current circumstances, he didn't have enough to go on. He and the others from Earth had stumbled onto this alien war which had been going on for tens of thousands of years. They'd accidentally fallen into what might prove to be the last act, with little knowledge of what had gone before and what might happen next. It wasn't an enviable situation. Not that Alfor, Allura, and Coran found themselves in an enviable situation, either.

"If it is any comfort, you've both done well so far," said Alfor.

"I told you this wouldn't help," said the bayard.

Shiro didn't agree. It had put their predicament in perspective. Now he knew that the original paladins had had to learn quickly under threat, too. Having the support of Alfor did make a difference, even if he hadn't been handed a magical solution. How often in life were people handed magical solutions? In spite of the fact that he'd wished for some in the past, Shiro couldn't remember having received one. Lucky breaks weren't quite the same. He'd run across a few of those, fortunately. They were lucky to have found the blue lion, to have managed to escape the Galra, and to find their way to the tools that gave them a slight chance of defending themselves against their powerful enemy. "Thank you, Alfor," said Shiro.

"If I have any new insights, I'll share them immediately. I may be stationary, but I will not be idle here."

"I appreciate that."

The bayard had retreated into silence. He expressed neither appreciation nor scorn. When Alfor spoke next, he seemed to be speaking—not to Shiro, but the robot. "I made mistakes, many years ago," said Alfor. "If I hadn't, you might not be where you are now."

"No, we wouldn't," said the bayard, before Shiro could respond. At least he was agreeing with Alfor, now.

Ignoring the bitterness in the bayard's voice, Alfor went on. "What Zarkon wants, more than anything, is to gain the lions. You have to stop him from obtaining them, at any cost. It may seem tempting to flee, to keep them from him, but—as my daughter made me realize, there's little point in having a means of defense if you don't use it to defend."

Shiro considered those words as he and the bayard left the room. Should he call it Alfor's room? That wasn't exactly what it was, as that term evoked a bedroom rather than computer storage, but it would have to do. The bayard had been more rude to Alfor than helpful in teasing out and solving their problem, but Shiro wasn't about to chastise him. For all the bayard's protests when it came to the matter of having emotions, he appeared to be genuinely upset. Shiro wasn't annoyed with him. He felt sympathy for him. Alfor himself had seemed to feel the same. He wished he had a better sense of what was wrong, to guide him in helping his new and frustrated partner, but his knowledge was limited by what the bayard was willing to share.

He felt the urge, again, to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but thinking that someone who would claim not to need reassurance might resent such a gesture, he held back. Until he reminded himself about what the bayard had said about making contact with him if he felt the impulse. He reached out after all, as he would with any friend, and let a hand settle on the bayard's upper arm, giving it a light squeeze. The bayard paused and looked up at him. "It isn't working," he said. "We should go back to the training deck and fight together, now that we've wasted our time."

"That's a good idea," said Shiro, focusing on the positive aspect of what he'd said. "But first, I need some water. I'm only human."

"Of course you're human."

"It's an expression. I'm flesh and blood."

The bayard appeared momentarily perplexed, as if the concept of his paladin needing to pause for rest or refreshment was a new concept to him. Yet he didn't object. "If you need to," he said, "but we're still practicing."

"I'm happy to keep practicing. I won't lose focus." Since practicing could be as straightforward as remaining aware of the bayard and his actions and being open to connecting with him, it wasn't hard to keep practicing, technically. Yet with such a vaguely defined task, he was aware, as the bayard was, that this training through companionship might not be the most effective means of helping them learn how to work together. Or it might be. That was how poorly they understood the problem.

Alfor had shed a portion of light on the issue, but it wasn't fully illuminated. There were so many other factors that might be contributing to their disconnect. Since the other paladins' bayards had responded to them immediately, if not perfectly, Shiro had to ask himself if the Black Lion's inactivity was partly to blame. Although the other bayards didn't take the form of sentient people, which was a further complication and possible cause. No further progress took place on their way back to the part of the castle where they'd last seen the others, but the bayard's ears remained stable and round, which was one promising sign. 

Shiro was able to locate his friends by the sound of their voices. Coran, Allura, and the the other paladins were in the midst of a conversation When Shiro and the bayard walked in. The talk broke off suddenly. If they'd been discussing him, Shiro wouldn't have blamed them. It was a topic of interest. Even if they had been talking about something else when he'd arrived, they were primarily interested in him and the bayard now. Shiro suddenly had five pairs of eyes fixed on him.

"Hello there, Number One!" said Coran brightly. "We've been discussing combat tricks and tips. I've been through a few scraps in my day, as I was telling Number Three here—"

"I didn't ask him to do that," Lance said quickly.

"I don't mean to interrupt," said Shiro. "We're taking a little break. Well, I am."

"Oh? Looking for a spot of refreshment, perhaps?" Coran, proving himself a skilled advisor and attendant, anticipated what Shiro wanted without Shiro having to ask. He may have failed to ascertain what Lance was interested in hearing about, but one out of two wasn't bad. As Shiro nodded, he smiled and nodded back. "Hang on a tick—I'll pop into the kitchen for you!"� He hurried off.

"Shiro. Thank you." Lance clasped his forearm in gratitude. A moment later, he released him and stepped back, because he'd turned and noticed that the bayard was staring at him. The bayard most likely wasn't angry, but he was intense in all his expressions. Shiro was coming to understand that. Lance hadn't spent nearly as much time with him and couldn't have made that distinction. He laughed, but the sound had a hint of a nervous tremor. "So—how's it going?" he asked.

"Lance, don't just ask them how it's going," said Hunk.

"What? It was an innocent question!" Lance shrugged as if to establish his innocence.

"Yeah, but we don't want to pressure them." Hunk lowered his voice conspiratorially, even though Shiro could hear him easily.

"It's all right. Any of you can ask me whatever you want," said Shiro. The bayard didn't contradict him. 

"In that case," said Pidge, who was zeroing in on the bayard, "maybe you _can_ update us. I'd like to know how it's going." That eager expression left no mystery about Pidge's eagerness to hear more about the robot. It was an expression that was echoed on Hunk's face, as he crept in closer, right behind Pidge.

"We've have some success," Shiro said.

"Oh, so you have!" agreed Allura. She was either the most observant or the quickest to point out her observation, as she made her way over to them. She leaned in to get a closer look at the bayard. "Your ears, they're—" She broke off, and finished with royal tact: "Looking very compact. Nice and contained."

"Human ears are very attractive," Lance agreed. He was probably trying to refer to his own ears, but when both the bayard and Allura turned toward him with narrowing eyes, he added, "In general!"

"Thanks for looking out for us humans, Lance," said Pidge, who had also stepped in to peer at the bayard's ears. "We couldn't have done it without you."

"You're welcome." Lance folded his arms smugly, either ignoring or missing the sarcastic nature of Pidge's comment.

"Our hero." Hunk patted him on the back.

"We need to stay focused," said the bayard. "This isn't helping."

"Excuse me for having a normal conversation," said Lance.

This wasn't the kind of reasoning likely to convince the bayard, and he folded his arms, adopting an attitude that was the opposite of convinced. "What's normal about it?"

Lance huffed. "Why are you so rude? Aren't robots supposed to be polite?" Lance put on a fake robot voice. " _Excuse me, Mr. Human. How can I help you?_ "

The bayard also made a noise that sounded suspiciously like huffing. "I've never heard a robot talk like that. Do you know any robots?"

Lance blinked. There was a pause that went on a little too long, before he leaned toward Hunk and spoke in a loud whisper. "Uh—Help me, Hunk, I'm only coming up with killer robots from video games."

"I'm not helping you, Lance," said Hunk.

Lance's eyes widened. "That explains it! You're a killer robot!"

"I'm not a killer robot!"

"Have you ever killed anyone?"

The bayard frowned, but admitted, "Yes."

"Then you're a killer robot! That's the definition: a robot who kills someone. It's also a little scary, but I'm not going to ask for details. Not right now." Lance turned to Hunk. "Look, Hunk, I defeated a robot in a battle of logic."

Hunk nodded, patting Lance on the back again, very slowly. "Wow. Lance. You're so logical. The most logical person I ever met."

"I know you don't mean that, but I'm taking it as a genuine compliment."

"I'm not a killer robot, I'm a defending robot!"

"But unlike 'killer robot'," Lance pointed out, with a wave of his pointer finger, "that's not an actual term."

The bayard made another frustrated noise. "You're wasting my time."

"Excuse me for trying to lighten the mood."

"Do what you want, but we're trying to work."

Shiro was glad to hear him use that _we_ , but the social skills on display weren't impressing him. Tensions were running high, but that was no reason to allow nerves to drive them apart. "We've all been working, and we're all under stress. We need to pull together and rely on each other, because we're all we have." 

Maybe he sounded like the cliché team leader, but focusing on unity was important. He was reminded again of the team's inexperience. Most of them lacked experience in one way or another. He himself had no experience as a paladin, and Allura was new to being a leader. Only Coran and the bayard had experience in their current roles. Coran had settled back into his usual role with what Shiro considered an admirable and brave—if sometimes confounding—good nature, but the bayard balked at almost every turn. Something was making him hold back. It was as if he resented the role he was supposed to play. While Shiro wanted them to succeed, he didn't want to force someone into a place where they didn't want to be. Except—if he was a part of Voltron, he was going to have to play that role no matter what.

It was a dilemma, but Shiro was distracted from it by Coran's return, accompanied by the sound of his voice. "I'm back, Shiro, and I have some good news." Coran hurried in holding two cups, one in each hand. "I've brought you a couple refreshing options."

"Options?" asked Shiro warily.

"First, a light, smooth nutrient burst, fresh as a mountain spring!"

"That sounds good," said Shiro, still wary.

"And second, a hearty, nourishing broth to gird and energize you."

"Also ... good," said Shiro, although he was unsure.

He felt a sudden tug on his his arm and turned. "Shiro," said Hunk, speaking out of the side of his mouth as he hid his mouth with his hand, "I think he means you can have watery goo or thick goo."

"Oh, uh—" It was difficult to decide which of those sounded less appetizing. "I'll take the light nutrient burst, thanks." At least he could swallow the watery goo quickly, which sounded preferable.

"Here you go, Number One." Coran held out one of the cups, and Shiro took it. 

"Why are you calling him that?" Shiro turned away from Hunk to see that the bayard was standing at attention on the other side of him, Lance forgotten. His attention was now fixed on Coran.

"Number One? That's right, you weren't here for that. I've ranked all the paladins by height. It's a little system of mine. I may have to redo it when we find the red paladin, but I thought there was no sense delaying when—"

"That didn't go over well before," said the bayard.

"Before?" Coran blinked, then widened his eyes. A frown flickered briefly beneath his mustache. "Yes, before. That's right. It didn't catch on, back then. No... But they say sometimes you just need to find your audience."

"So _this_ is your audience?"

"I wouldn't say that—exactly." Coran hesitated, glancing down at the cup of thick goo that was still in his hand, then up at the bayard again. "Other audiences were also my audience, but different audiences—like different things?"

Shiro held off on drinking his goo. The bayard seemed upset, not that Shiro would have called him that out loud. He had learned better than to attach emotions to the bayard's actions. The other paladins and Allura were also listening instead of interrupting, as if they sensed the tension in the room. Not for the first time, Shiro sensed the presence of the previous paladins—not a physical presence, of course, but they were here, affecting the present in many ways, some of which Shiro suspected he wasn't aware of yet.

"But I've been thinking about it," Coran continued, as the bayard glared at him without speaking, "And I wouldn't want you to feel left out of the group. I ranked everyone, but you're not in the ranking."

"What?" The bayard obviously hadn't expected the conversation to go in this direction. "I don't care about that. I'm not a paladin."

"Well no, but you're part of Team Voltron, too! I'm sure everyone would like you to be included, too!"

"I know _I_ would," said Lance quickly. Possibly not with the most pure motivations, but it was a nice thought. Hunk and Pidge also chimed in with their agreement.

Coran was only encouraged by this response. "But the problem is, you can change size! So I can't make you Number One or Number Five. And I can't stick you right in the middle. That wouldn't be accurate. That's why—I came up with a very special one-of-a-kind ranking for you." 

"What?" asked the bayard again. Shiro forced himself to suppress a smile. He took a quick swallow of goo to ground himself. It didn't taste ... bad.

"This is a good one," said Coran. He cleared his throat. "Kinetic Entity of Indeterminate Tallness and Height." Coran paused to let this sink in. He nodded and took a deep sip of the thick goo he was holding for—emphasis, Shiro supposed.

There was a long, uncertain pause, and Hunk was the one to break it. "Uh, Coran," he said, "Aren't tallness and height the same thing?"

"Is that what Earth people think?" asked Coran. "On Altea, they're two separate concepts. You see, tallness is—"

"No one cares about that, Coran." Lance interrupted, obviously viewing a discussion of the definitions of words with a sense of dread. "But you can call him a Kin-Entity, whatever that is."

"Kinetic Entity," said Coran helpfully.

"Whatever," said Lance.

"Hold on." Pidge was making a thoughtful face, lips pursed. "Kinetic Entity of Indeterminate Tallness and Height— If you take that as an acronym, what does it spell out?"

"K-E-I-... Keith!" Hunk cried out.

"Exactly!" Coran exclaimed, gesturing with the goo in his hand, a few drops of which sloshed out of his cup and onto his hand. "Keith! Wait a tick, what's a Keith?"

"It's an Earth name," Shiro explained.

"Is it? That was so clever of me!" Coran looked so pleased by this coincidence that Shiro didn't want to take the credit away from him, so he nodded, instead.

"We should have something to call him," said Pidge, "other than 'the black bayard'. That's kind of awkward to say all the time."

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. I like Keith better," said Hunk. "It has a nice ring to it."

"It's not a _bad_ name..." Even Lance was on board with this new development.

"I always thought you could use a name," said Allura, smiling. "I wondered why you didn't have one."

The bayard turned to her in surprise. "I never thought it mattered," he said. "I'm not a person."

"You're a person all right," Lance disagreed. "I've definitely noticed your personality." Again, Shiro wasn't entirely sure about Lance's motivation, but he liked the sentiment.

Shiro liked seeing how this development had injected everyone with some good cheer. They were pressing in close now around the bayard, all of them together and talking. It wasn't a major mood boost, but it was noticeable. Their team had made progress of a sort, even if it wasn't combat related.

"What do you think?" Shiro asked the bayard, who was the most important one in this discussion—the most important _person_. "Do you want a name?" He wasn't going to force something like that on him without his permission.

"I don't care," he said. "If that's what all the paladins want—then fine."

"All right. Keith it is," said Shiro. Pidge was right. He already liked using the name better than saying _the bayard_. It felt more personal. Yes, the bayard wanted to be thought of as a weapon rather than a person, but Shiro didn't agree with him. The moments in which they'd worked best together so far had been when they'd been collaborating as people, not as a person and his weapon. They had been moments of emotional connection. The bayard had turned into his cat and then taken on the shape of his ears. That wasn't impersonal in any way.

King Alfor had helped him to understand the root of the problem. He'd said that what was needed was a new bond to form over the old. It didn't have to replace the previous bond. Shiro wouldn't want to replace someone who'd been important in someone's life—but their relationship had to be strong enough to take effect on both of them. There was no connection stronger than one formed from personal affinity.

That kind of bond couldn't be forced.

"Keith," said the bayard.

"It's a very pretty name!" Still proud of himself, Coran sighed happily. His mustache was all but sparkling, although the effect was slightly marred by a few droplets of the goo he'd been drinking that had been caught up in the orangey hair. "Earth names are so charming. King Alfor had wanted to give you a name, but—" Coran stopped himself, before continuing vaguely: "It didn't work out that way."

This wasn't the first time Shiro had had the sense that information was deliberately being kept from him. He'd thought about pressing, but if the Alteans and the bayard didn't want to tell him, asking more directly might have been pointless. Their reasoning might be valid, for all he knew, but he wasn't going to allow the evasions to go on indefinitely.

Now wasn't the time for him to make an issue of it, not with everyone gathered around. The thought was shortly pushed out of his mind when the bayard— _Keith_ —suddenly straightened. His entire body tensed. Shiro wasn't only aware of the tension visually. He _felt_ it internally, and he straightened as well, instinctively scanning the area as if seeking a threat.

"It's moving faster," said Keith, turning to Allura. "The red lion. Do you feel that?"

"I ... do," she said. "What does it mean?"

"The Galra have increased their speed," said Keith. "A lot."

"But they were already traveling so fast—" The tension had spread to Allura. From there, everyone else was quickly caught up in the sense of alarm. There was no more laughing and talking.

"Their technology must have improved more than we thought," Keith said.

"I need to get to the control room," said Allura. "Now. Paladins, prepare yourselves."

Shiro put down his drink. They had all known this moment was going to come, but they hadn't known it would be so soon. Now that it was here, they had no choice but to react. They weren't the ones with the advantage in this fight. They hadn't been able to choose the time or the place, and they were undoubtedly outgunned. Shiro knew the Galra. He knew what they were capable of. A shudder ran over him. The last thing he wanted was to be in the hands of the Galra again.

Shiro felt a light touch on the side of his hand. He turned his head. Keith had reached out to touch him, to catch his attention. "I'm coming with you," he said. That did make him feel better. No matter where he was going, he wouldn't be going there alone.


End file.
